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THE 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH 

OR  THE 


STREAM  OF  HUMAN  LIFE 

FROM  THE  CRADLE  TO  THE  GRAVE 


WITH 


REFLECTIONS 

MORAL  PHYSICAL  AND  PHILOSOPHICAL 

ON  THE 

SUCCESSIVE  PHASES  OF  HUMAN  EXISTENCE 

THE  MALADIES  TO  WHICH  THEY  ARE  SUBJECT,  AND  THE  DANGERS  THAT 
MAY  BE  AVERTED. 


Jj>econ&  <£tr{tion,  enlaraetf  & {mpvohetf. 
By  JAMES  JOHNSON,  M.D. 

PHYSICIAN  EXTRAORDINARY  TO  THE  KING. 


LONDON. 

S.  HIGHLEY,  32,  FLEET  STREET. 


1837 


PRINTED  BY  F.  HAYDEN, 
Little  College  Street,  Westminster, 


& 1 3 


p^arjr 


PREFACE 


(to  the  first  edition). 


The  following  Essay , though  small  in  size,  is  the  result  of  long  experience 
and  observation.  It  consists  of  the  deductions  which  have  been  drawn 
from  facts  and  reflections , rather  than  the  processes  through  which  these 
deductions  had  been  arrived  at.  After  all,  it  is  but  an  outline  of  the 
subject,  the  details  of  which  would  fill  many  volumes. 

The  Author  will  not  be  accused  of  having  followed,  or  borrowed  much 
from  his  predecessors  in  this  walk.  The  various  “ arts  of  prolonging 
life,”  and  the  ponderous  “ codes  of  health  and  longevity,”  though  read  by 
many,  have  been  remembered  by  few — and  practised  by  still  fewer.  Even 
where  the  precepts  have  been  put  in  execution,  they  have  often  done  more 
harm  than  good.  The  reason  is  not  difficult  to  divine.  From  the  cradle  to 
the  grave,  man  is  perpetually  changing,  both  in  mind  and  body.  He  is  not, 
to-day,  what  he  was  yesterday,  and  will  be  to-morrow.  Though  these 
changes  are  not  perceptible  to  the  eye,  at  very  short  intervals,  yet,  if  an 
individual  is  only  seen  every  four  or  five  years,  the  alterations  will  appear 
very  remarkable.  In  tracing  the  successive  phases  of  human  existence,  it 
was  necessary  to  adopt  some  arbitrary  division  of  time — and,  after  long 
observation  and  reflection,  the  Septennial  periods  appeared  to  the  Author 
the  most  natural  epochs  into  which  the  journey  of  life  could  be  divided. 


In  respect  to  the  execution  of  the  work,  whether  good  or  bad,  the  Author 
can  safely  aver  that  the  great  object  aimed  at,  was  utility.  Pecuniary 
emolument  was  out  of  the  question — the  race  of  competition  is  abandoned — 
and  the  goal  of  ambition  has  dropped  the  mask,  and  assumed  its  real  cha- 
racter— the  scoffing  terminus  of  man's  vain  hopes — the  withering  finger- 
post pointing  to  the  tomb  ! 


703400 


IV 


PREFACE. 


In  a survey  of  human  life,  there  was  much  temptation  to  moral  reflec- 
tion, and  even  some  excuse  for  metaphysical  speculation.  Into  the  latter 
the  Author  has  seldom  ventured,  and  then  with  great  brevity.  In  fine,  he 
has  endeavoured  to  simplify  the  leading  principles  of  preserving  health  and 
attaining  happiness,  rather  than  to  multiply  details  and  amplify  precepts 
that  can  only  be  applied  by  each  individual  to  himself. 

Suffolk  Place, 

November,  1836. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 

The  favorable  reception  of  the  First  Edition,  published  three  months 
ago,  has  induced  the  Author  to  revise  the  work  very  carefully,  and 
introduce  a great  deal  of  new  matter.  Four  entire  Sections  have  been 
added — one  on  Pulmonary  Consumption,  especially  as  regards  pre- 
vention and  climatorial  treatment — another  on  Gout — a third  on  Memory 
—and  a fourth  on  the  “ Consolations  of  Old  Age.”  The  Author  is  not 
without  hopes  that  the  Essay , as  it  now  stands,  will  contribute  some- 
thing to  the  health  and  happiness  of  society.  He  has  gratefully  to 
acknowledge  the  indulgence  of  the  Public  and  the  liberality  of  the  Press, 
on  this  as  well  as  upon  many  other  occasions. 

Suffolk  Place, 

February,  1837. 


CONTENTS, 


Preli  minary  Observations — Definition  of  Health,  l..The  chief  Ingredient  in 
Happiness,  2..  Power,  Riches,  Fame,  Beauty,  &c.  without  Health,  3. .Religion 
Philosophy,  Materialism,  4..  Public  Health,  or  Hygiene,  5..  Brahmins,  Jews,  and 
Greeks,  6. . Sanitary  Code  of  Lycurgus,  7 . . Spartan  Gymnastics,  8. . Ancient  Per- 
sian Dietetics,  8. . Pythagorean  Precepts,  9..  Influence  of  Animal  and  Vegetable 
Food,  9. . Man  omnivorous,  9. . Division  of  Life  into  Ten  Septenniads,  11. 

FIRST  SEPTENNIAD. 

[1  to  7 Years .] 

Picture  of  Earliest  Infancy,  12.. State  of  the  Brain  and  Internal  Organs  in  early 
Infancy,  13. . Intellectual  Operations  almost  null,  13..  Danger  of  early  Mental 
Exertions,  13..  Physical  Education  of  the  First  Septenniad,  14 — Food,  14 
..Cloathing,  15. . Calido-frigid  Fortifier,  15.  .Exercise,  17..  Sleep,  18..  Moral 
Education  of  the  First  Septenniad,  18.. Habits  and  Manners  to  be  formed 
in  this  Epoch,  19.  .Importance  of  Order,  Regularity,  Punctuality,  19. 

SECOND  SEPTENNIAD. 

[7  to  14  Years.'] 

The  Schoolmaster — unhappy  Wight,  2 1 ..  Precocious  Culture  of  the  Intellect,  2 1 . . 
Swords  turned  into  Pens,  22.. Modes  of  Elementary  Instruction,  23..  Private 
Tuition — Public  Schools,  23 . . Disproportion  between  Mental  and  Corporeal  Ex- 
ercise, 24. . Grand  Principle  of  Education,  24.. Proper  Premium  for  Mental  At- 
tention, 24 .. Systematic  Exercise,  25.. Dietetic  Regimen  during  the  Scholastic 
Septenniad,  26..  Modern  Errors  at  the  Home  Table,  26. . Barbarous  System  of 
“ Fagging”  at  Schools,  27. . Contagion  of  Vice  in  Public  Seminaries,  27. . Lancas- 
trian System  of  “ Mutual  Destruction,”  27 . . Cardinal  Objects  of  Education,  28. . 
Comparative  Advantages  of  Learning  and  Science,  29. . Classics  and  Mathematics 
compared,  29.  .Value  of  Time  in  the  present  State  of  the  World,  29. . Remarks  on 
Originals  and  Translations,  3 1 . . Education  of  Females,  32.  .Mania  for  Music,  33 
..  Aristocracy  of  the  “ Factory  Girls,”  34. . Misappropriation  of  Time,  34. 

THIRD  SEPTENNIAD. 

[14  to  21  Years.] 

Change  from  the  Schoolmaster  to  the  Task-Master — from  the  Seminary  to  the  Count- 
ing-house— from  the  Academy  to  the  College,  35 . . Manifold  Dangers  of  the  Third 
Septenniad,  35. . Secrets  of  the  Prison-house,  37 . . Evils  of  the  Arts  and  Manufac- 
tures, 3 8.. Insalubrious  Avocations  and  Professions,  39.. Wear  and  Tear  of  Uni- 
versity Wrangling,  40.. High  Mental  Cultivation  of  Mind  injurious  to  the  Body, 
41..  Comparative  Effects  of  Classics  and  Mathematics,  42..  Dawn  of  certain  Pas- 
sions and  Propensities,  43. . Love  the  Master-passion  in  this  Septenniad,  44. . Two 
Cupids — one  heaven-born — the  other  the  Offspring  of  Nox  and  Erebus,  44.. 
Picture  of  a Love-sick  Maiden,  45..  Marriage  Maxims  of  Modern  Life,  45.. Evil 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


direction  of  Female  Education,  46. . Morbid  Excitability  produced  by  Music,  47. . 
Seeds  of  Female  Diseases  sown  at  this  Period,  49. . Want  of  Exercise — Exposure  to 
Night- Air,  50. . Deplorable  Effects  of  Tight-lacing,  51 . . Effects  of  too-early  Matri- 
mony, 54. 

FOURTH  SEPTENNIAD. 

[21  to  28  Years.] 

Typical  Representation  of  Time,  55..  Nature  ever  changing,  never  changed,  55.. 
Time,  as  estimated  by  different  Individuals,  56.  .Unjust  Complaints  against  Time, 

57. . Majority  attained,  and  Manhood  gained,  58. . False  Estimates  of  good  and  bad 
Fortune,  58. . Remarkable  Illustration — “ all  for  the  best,”  58. . Majority  of  Years 
not  Acmd  of  Powers,  58. . Age  of  25,  the  Age  of  Maturity,  59 . . Difference  between 
Males  and  Females,  59..  Fourth  Septenniad  the  most  critical  for  both  Sexes, 

60 . . Structure  and  Functions  of  the  Human  Frame  indicative  of  infinite  Wisdom, 

60. .  Sum-total  of  the  Functions  constitute  Health,  61..  Sources  of  Pleasure  and 
Suffering,  61..  Man  apparently  designed  for  Immortality,  62. . Immortality,  in 
this  World,  would  be  a dreadful  Curse,  63. . Acme  of  Physical  Development  at  25, 
not  the  Acm6  of  Firmness  and  Strength,  63 ..  Temperance  and  Exercise  consoli- 
date the  Constitution,  64. . Youth  of  Labour  and  Age  of  Ease,  64. . Exercise  almost 
always  in  our  power,  65. . Fourth  Septenniad  claimed  by  Hymen,  66.  .Question 
of  the  proper  Time  for  Marriage,  66. . Consequences  of  Premature  Marriage  in  the 
Female,  67..  Choice  of  a Mate — Marriage  a Lottery,  67. . Courtship  a State  of 
Warfare,  67. . Best  Chance  of  Happiness  in  Matrimony,  68. . All  Contrasts  produce 
Harmony,  69. . Wisdom  of  Providence,  69. . PULMONARY  CONSUMPTION,  its 
Causes,  Prevention,  and  Treatment,  70-77. 

FIFTH  AND  SIXTH  SEPTENNIADS. 

[28  to  42  Years .] 

THE  GOLDEN  iERA. 

Fifth  and  Sixth  Septenniads  the  double  Keystone  of  the  Arch  of  Human  Life,  78 
. . Remarks  on  Dr.  S.  Johnson’s  “ Decline  of  Life,”  78. . Remarks  on  Dr.  S.  Smith’s 
“ Meridian  of  Life,”  78. . Life  nearly  stationary  from  28  to  42,  79. . Equilibrium 
of  Waste  and  Supply,  79. . Arguments  against  Materialism,  80 . . Phrenology,  81 . . 
Different  Organs  and  different  Functions  in  the  Brain,  82 . . Plurality  of  Organs  in 
the  Brain  no  Argument  in  favour  of  Materialism,  81..  Material  Organs  not  the 
Causes  but  the  Instruments  of  the  Mental  Faculties,  82 ..  Drawbacks  on  Phre- 
nology, 84. . Auto-phrenology,  or  the  Study  of  our  own  Propensities,  the  best 
Study — and  easiest,  84. . Difficulty  and  Danger  of  studying  the  Organs  of  our 
Neighbours,  84. . Insanity  and  Monomania  best  Illustrations  of  Phrenology,  85. . 
Mind  acquires  Strength  after  the  Body  begins  to  decline,  85. . Imagination  strong- 
est in  the  Golden  ^Era,  86. . Shakespeare — Scott — Byron,  &c.  as  examples,  86.. 
Exceptions  to  this  Rule — Milton,  Johnson,  &c.  86.. Judgment  stronger  after  the 
Meridian,  86.. Bacon,  Newton,  Locke,  Linnaeus,  &c.  in  illustration,  86.. Novum 
Organon,  at  the  Age  of  59,  86 . . Newton’s  Vigour  of  Mind  at  73,  87 . . Powers  of 
Mind  and  Body  do  not  appear  to  rise  and  fall,  pari  passu,  as  the  Materialists  main- 
tain, 87. . Explanation  of  this  Difference,  87. . Practical  Application,  87  a Emula- 
tion of  Youth  glides  into  the  Ambition  of  Manhood,  88. . Ambition,  its  Rewards 
and  Punishments,  88. . Alexander,  Hannibal,  Caesar,  Sidney,  Wolsey,  Napoleon, 
88.  .Ambition,  the  universal  Passion  in  Middle  Age,  89..  No  Organ  of  Ambition 
discovered  by  Phrenologists,  90. . Succession  of  the  Passions  and  Propensities,  90 


CONTENTS. 


Vll 


, . All  Brains  equally  blank  at  Birth  ; but  all  Brains  not  equal  on  that  Account, 

91..  Our  Talents  are  hereditary — our  Acquirements  depend  on  ourselves,  91.. 
Examples  of  Emulation  growing  into  Ambition,  91. . Napoleon,  Peel,  Byron, 
Brougham,  &c.  92.  .Men  are  not  born  equal,  92..  At  3 5 Love  and  Ambition  nearly 
equipotent,  92.  .The  Seeds  of  many  Diseases  called  into  Activity  during  the  Fifth 
and  Sixth  Septenniads,  93..  Modern  Maladies — Dyspepsy,  &c.,  94..  March  of 
Intellect  and  its  Miseries,  94. . Torrent  of  Knowledge  not  to  be  stopped,  95 . . Health 
deteriorated,  though  Life  be  not  curtailed,  by  the  March  of  Improvement,  96.. 
Nervous  Complaints,  from  Mental  Exertion,  96 . . Action  and  re-action  of  Mind 
and  Body,  97. . Chief  Sources  of  Modern  Disorders  in  the  Mind,  98 ..  Illustrations 
of  Mental  Depressions  predisposing  to  Bodily  Disease,  99. . Walcheren  and  Batavia, 

99 ..  Development  of  a grand  Principle  in  Hygiene — Activity  of  Body  as  an 
Antidote  to  Depression  of  Mind,  100.  Illustrations. — Retreat  of  the  Ten  Thou- 
sand Greeks,  under  Xenophon,  101..  Siege  of  Mantua,  1 03 ..  Shipwreck  of  Capt. 
Byron,  103. . Retreat  of  Sir  John  Moore,  104.  .Narratives  of  Bligh  and  Wilson,  104. . 
Retreat  of  the  French  from  Moscow,  105 . . Application  of  this  Principle  of  Hygiene 
to  Private  Life,  106. . Gneco-Byronian  Precept — “ Keep  the  Body  active,  and 
the  Stomach  empty,  106.  .Misfortunes  of  the  Female  Sex,  107. . Ingratitude  to 
Mothers,  107. . Maternal  Affection,  108. . Filial  Affection,  108. . Punishments  in 
this  World,  109.  .Suicide,  110..  Hope  of  Rewards,  112..  Zenith  of  the  Journey  of 
Life,  112.. Retrospection,  112.. Tree  of  Knowledge,  1 13. . Probable  Effects  of 
Knowledge,  1 13.  .On  Intellect,  116..  On  Learning,  116.  .On  Wealth,  117..  On 
Rank,  118.. On  Happiness,  119. . On  Equalization,  120. 

SEVENTH  SEPTENNIAD. 

[42  to  49  years.] 

Ebb-tide  of.  Life  commences  at  42,  121 . .Decadence  of  the  Stream  scarcely  percep- 
tible, 121 ..  Melancholy  Monitors,  121.  .The  three  Master-passions  Equipoised,  121 
Grand  Climacteric  of  Woman,  122. . Patho-Proteian  Malady — Origin  and 
Sources  of  this  Multiform  Disorder,  122.. Not  an  Entity,  but  a Modern  Con- 
stitution or  Disposition,  123.. Chief  Source  in  the  Brain — Chief  Action  on  the 
Digestive  Organs,  124.  .Multitudinous  Causes,  125. . Injuries  offered  to  the  Sto- 
mach by  all  Classes,  125.. Nature  of  the  Vital  Organs,  126..  Stomach  Intel- 
lectualized,  126..  Morbid  Circle  of  Association,  127. . Melancholy  Case  of  Perio- 
dical Monomania,  ending  in  Suicide,  128. . Fatal  Effects  of  Ambition,  130. . Modern 
Habits  and  Pursuits,  133. . Redundant  Population — Ardent  Competition,  133.. 
“ Feast  of  Reason,”  135 .. Mental  Intemperance,  136. . Morbid  Sensibility,  137.. 
Central  Seat  of  the  Proteian  Fiend,  138 . . Imitates  various  Diseases,  138 . . Parox- 
ysm of  the  Patho-Proteus,  139. . Invasion  of  the  Intellectual  Powers,  141..  Dire 
Effects  of  the  Patho-Proteus  on  Temper,  142.. Temper  not  entirely  under  the 
Control  of  Reason,  142.. Remarks  on  Insanity,  142. . Hygiene,  or  Prevention 
of  the  Proteian  Malady — Temperance  and  Exercise  the  Grand  Preventives  and 
Correctives,  144. . Baleful  Effects  of  Sedentary  Habits,  145. . Inactivity  the  Parent 
of  Irritability,  146. . Incentives  to  Exercise,  146.  .Travelling-Exercise  in  the  Open 
Air,  148.  .First  Tour  of  Health  (in  1823)  148..  Second  Tour  of  Health  (1829)  152 
. . Remarks  on  the  Salutary  Effects  of  Travelling-Exercise,  154. . Narrow  Escapes 
from  Malaria  and  Atmospheric  Vicissitudes,  155.. Third  Tour  of  Health — The 
Highlands  and  Hebrides,  156..  Fourth  Tour  of  Health — Holland,  Germany, 
Switzerland,  and  Italy,  157 , . Description  of  the  Baths  of  Pfeffers,  158. , Tremen- 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


dous  Scene  over  the  Torrent  of  the  Tamina,  163 . . Source  of  the  Thermee,  164. . 
The  Waters  of  Pfeiffers,  167.. Mrs.  Bodington’s  Description  of  the  Pfeffers,  167.. 
Disorders  for  which  the  Pfeffers  are  recommended,  169. . Description  of  the  Baths, 

170. . Locale  of  the  Baths,  17 1. . Stupendous  Scenery  in  the  Vicinity  of  the  Baths, 

171..  Scenic  Effects  among  the  Alps,  1 7 1 .. Cautions  respecting  Hot  Baths  in 
general,  172-3. . Chronic  Diseases  in  which  they  are  serviceable,  173. . Dyspepsy 
and  Hypochondriasis,  175. 

EIGHTH  SEPTENNIAD. 

[49  to  56  years.] 

Dr.  Jameson  on  the  Septennial  Phases,  177. .Comparative  Position  of  the  Three 
Master- Passions  in  this  Septenniad,  178. . Pleasures  and  Miseries  of  Memory,  179 
..Memory,  180-6. . Danger  of  Attempting  to  Change  Habits  or  Avocations  in 
this  Septenniad,  186 . .Unequal  Matrimonial  Alliances,  187. . Melancholy  Mementos 
in  this  Septenniad,  188. . Cowper’s  Life,  189.  .Resources  of  Art  in  counteracting 
Decay  of  Life,  189. . Tendency  to  Obesity  in  the  Eighth  Septenniad,  191.. 
Cautions  necessary  at  this  Period,  192..  Gout,  its  Causes,  Nature,  and  Treatment, 
192-7. 

NINTH  SEPTENNIAD. 

[56  to  63  years.] 

[Grand  Climacteric.] 

Reflections  on  the  Lapse  of  Time  in  Youth  and  in  Age,  198. . Love  of  Money  becomes 
the  predominant  Passion,  199..  Grand  Climacteric — “Fifth  Age”  of  Shake- 
speare— Rationale  of  the  Grand  Climacteric,  199. . Description  of  the  Climacteric 
Decline,  200. . Imitation  of  the  Climacteric  Decline  in  Young  Females,  203. . Means 
of  checking  the  Climacteric  Decline,  204..  Various  Terminations  of  the  Climac- 
teric Disease,  205. . Remedies  or  Palliatives,  205..  Other  Diseases  of  the  Ninth 
Septenniad,  206..  Fate  of  Scott  and  Byron,  206.. Desire  for  Retirement  at  this 
Period  of  Life,  207.. Fatal  Effects  of  too-early  Retirement  from  Business,  207. . 
Remarkable  Example,  208. .Retrospective  and  Prospective  Views  at  63,  210.. 
Religion,  211. 

TENTH  SEPTENNIAD. 

[63  to  70.] 

Sixth  Age  of  Skakespeare,  Remarks  on,  212.  .Portrait  of  Old  Age — Marlbro’ and 
Swift,  213.. Modern  Failure  of  the  Teeth,  214.. General  Dilapidation  of  the 
whole  Frame,  2 14.. Comparative  Range  of  Sleep,  214. . Departure  of  some  Ruling 
Passions,  216.. Avarice  remains,  Remarkable  Examples,  216.. Balance  of  Hap- 
piness and  Misery,  217. . Consolations  of  Old  Age,  218. . Reveries  of  Senectitude, 

218 . . Pleasures  of  Complaining,  219. . Remarkable  Portrait  of  a Laudator  Temporis 
Acti,  219. . Reverence  of  Old  Age  in  Savage  Nations  and  Civilized,  compared, 

222. . Flattering  Picture  of  Old  Age,  by  Dr.  Jameson,  223. 

ULTRA-LIMITES. 

[70  to  0.] 

Shakespeare’s  “ Last  Scene  of  All,”  224. . Man  still  hopes  for  a little  Protraction  of 
Existence,  224 .. Imaginary  Corruscations  of  Intellect  at  the  Close  of  Life,  224.. 
The  Sceptic’s  Horror  of  Death,  225 ..  Christian’s  Consolation  in  theXast  Hour — 


Hope  Gilds  the  Final  Scene,  226. 

Appendix — Mr.  Coulson’s  late  Work 227 

Criticisms  on  the  Author's  Works 230 


THE 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH, 


OR  THE 

STREAM  OF  HUMAN  LIFE, 

Sfc.  8fc.  8fc. 


Health  has  been  defined  the  natural  and  easy  exercise  of 
all  the  functions — constituting  a state  of  actual  pleasure.  “ The 
usual,  the  permanent,  the  natural  condition  of  each  organ,  and 
of  the  entire  system,  is  pleasurable/’*  This  might  be  true,  if 
we  were  in  a state  of  nature ; but,  in  our  present  condition, 
there  is  scarcely  such  a thing  as  perfect  health.  It  is,  unfor- 
tunately, often  a negative,  rather  than  a positive  quality — an 
immunity  from  suffering,  rather  than  the  pleasurable  condition 
described  by  Dr.  Smith.  All  must  acknowledge  that  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  moral  perfection  in  this  world : — neither  is 
there  physical  perfection.  Man  brings  with  him  the  seeds  of 
sickness  as  well  as  of  death ; and,  although,  in  their  early 
growth,  these  seeds  may  be  imperceptible,  yet  so  many  noxious 
agents  surround  us,  that  we  rarely  arrive  at  maturity  before  the 
foul  weeds  become  cognizable,  and  disorder  usurps  the  place  of 
health  ! I am  ready  to  grant,  with  Dr.  Smith,  that — “ ab- 
stracting from  the  aggregate  amount  of  pleasure  (health)  the 
aggregate  amount  of  pain,  the  balance  in  favor  of  pleasure  is 


* Dr.  S.  Smith’s  Philosophy  of  Health. 

B 


2 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


immense.”  But  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  our  pleasurable 
or  healthy  moments  pass  with  such  rapid  wing,  that  we  are 
scarcely  conscious  of  their  existence.  Not  so  while  under  pain 
or  sickness.  Then  the  hours  drag  heavily  along,  and  the  per- 
ception of  time  is  only  experience  of  suffering  ! 

But  whether  a positive  or  a negative  quality — whether  a com- 
plete, or  merely  a comparative  freedom  from  disease,  is  health 
estimated  as  the  greatest  blessing  ? — is  it  appreciated  at  its 
real  value?  It  would  appear  not  to  be  so  by  the  following 
declaration  of  the  Poet — 

Oh!  Happiness — our  being’s  end  and  aim. 

Good,  Pleasure,  Ease,  Content,  whatever  thy  name ! 

No  one  knew  better  than  Pope  the  blessing  of  health — or  rather 
the  miseries  of  sickness ; and  therefore  the  Bard  ought  to  have 
placed  Health  at  the  head  of  the  short  category  in  the  second 
line.  Let  that  catalogue  be  extended  to  the  utmost  limit  of  the 
poet’s  imaginings — let  all  its  items,  if  possible,  be  brought 
within  the  grasp  of  some  fortunate  individual — yet  omit  health, 
and  all  the  other  objects  of  men’s  wishes  and  hopes  would  prove 
stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable.  Strike  out  health  from  the  list 
of  regal  prerogatives,  and  the  imperial  diadem  proves  a crown 
of  thorns.  Without  health,  the  armorial  bearings  and  all 
those  glittering  symbols  of  ancestral  pride  and  noble  birth 
grow  insipid — nay,  hateful  to  the  eye  of  the  possessor,  as  laugh- 
ing in  mockery  at  human  suffering,  and  pointing  to  the  grave, 
as  the  only  certain  refuge  from  human  woes — the  only  asylum 
which  opens  its  gates  indiscriminately  to  the  relief  of  the  high 
and  the  low ! 

Without  health,  riches  cannot  procure  ease,  much  less 
happiness.  It  would  have  been  a cruel  dispensation  of  Pro- 
vidence, if  gold  had  been  permitted  to  purchase  that  which  is 
the  poor  man’s  chief  wealth — and  the  want  of  which,  reduces 
the  affluent  to  worse  than  indigence  ! The  bed  of  sickness  is 
the  greatest  of  all  levellers  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  Can  the 
embroidered  pillow  or  the  purple  canopy  still  the  fierce  throb- 


NO  HAPPINESS  WITHOUT  HEALTH. 


3 


bings  of  the  fevered  brain — or  arrest  the  dire  tortures  of  lacer- 
ating gout  ? No  verily ! But  it  will  be  said  that  the  rich 
man  may  console  himself  with  the  reflection  that  he  can  sum- 
mon to  his  aid,  when  overtaken  with  illness,  a conclave  of  grave, 
learned,  and  skilful  physicians.  True.  The  pauper  and  the 
peasant  confide  their  health  to  the  parish  doctor  or  the  village 
apothecary,  whose  remedies  may  be  less  palatable,  but  not  less 
potent,  than  those  of  their  prouder  neighbours.  At  all  events, 
they  are  not  cursed  with  consultations — nor  liable  to  have  their 
maladies  misnomered,  if  not  mismanaged,  by  conflicting  doc- 
trines and  fashionable  doctors.  The  pains  of  the  poor  man 
may  be  as  strong  as  those  of  the  rich ; but  his  sensibilities  are 
less  acute,  because  more  accustomed  to  privations  and  hardships. 
He  has  little  to  lose  in  this  world,  except  a load  of  misery. 
To  Poverty,  Death  often  appears  as  the  welcome  termination 
of  a long  and  unsuccessful  struggle  against  wants  and  woes  : — - 
From  Affluence,  the  grisly  king  demands  an  unconditional 
surrender  of  all  the  good  things  transmitted  to  him  by  heritage, 
acquired  by  industry,  or  accumulated  by  avarice. 

Can  fame  defy  the  stings  of  sickness  ? No.  The  plaudits 
of  the  multitude  can  no  more  assuage  the  tortures  of  pain,  than 
can  “ flattery  soothe  the  dull  cold  ear  of  death.”  The  renown 
of  a thousand  victories  could  not  diffuse  an  anodyne  influence 
over  the  pillow  of  Napoleon.  The  laurels  of  Marengo  did  not 
defend  him  against  the  skiey  influence  of  St.  Helena  ! 

Can  power,  the  darling  object  of  ambitious  minds,  neutra- 
lize the  stings  of  pain,  and  compensate  for  loss  of  health  ? 
No  indeed  ! A motion  of  that  magic  wand,  the  sceptre,  can 
cause  joy  or  sorrow,  sickness  or  health,  in  the  subject  : but 
neither  the  diadem  nor  the  purple  can  lull  the  aching  head,  or 
quiet  the  palpitating  heart  of  the  prince. 

Is  beauty  inaccessible  to  sickness  ? Of  all  the  gifts  which 
Heaven  can  bestow,  the  “ fortune  of  a face”  is  the  most  doubt- 
ful in  value.  It  is  a mark  at  which  every  malignant  star  directs 
its  hostile  influence — a light  that  leads  both  its  bearer  and  fol- 
lowers more  frequently  upon  rocks  and  quick-sands,  than  into 


4 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH, 


the  haven  of  repose.  Between  beauty  and  disease  there  is  per- 
petual warfare.  They  cannot  coexist  for  any  length  of  time— 
and  the  latter  is  sure  to  be  the  victor  in  a protracted  contest. 

Can  literature  or  science  close  the  avenues  to  corporeal 
sufferings,  or  render  the  mind  superior  to  the  infirmities  of  the 
body?  Far  from  it.  Intellectual  cultivation  sows  the  seeds  of 
physical  deterioration — and  the  evils  thus  inflicted  on  the  flesh, 
fail  not  to  grow  up,  and  ultimately  retaliate,  with  interest,  on 
the  spirit. 

Is  there,  then,  no  condition  or  state,  in  this  world,  exempt 
from  disease  ? None.  Are  there  no  means  of  restoring  lost 
health,  or  of  rendering  the  loss  compatible  with  happiness — or 
at  least  with  contentment  ? Many  diseases  may  be  prevented 
• — many  are  curable — and  many  may  be  mitigated ; — but  there 
is  only  one  thing,  so  far  as  I have  observed,  that  can  promise 
patience,  resignation,  and  even  cheerfulness  under  permanent 
or  long-  continued  affliction,  whether  of  body  or  mind— and  that 
is  RELIGION. 

Philosophy,  which  is  always  tinctured  with  natural  religion, 
makes  a noble  stand,  for  a time,  against  physical  as  well  as 
moral  ills  ; but  being  based  on  human  doctrines,  and  supported 
chiefly  by  human  pride,  it  often  fails  in  protracted  struggles, 
and  lies  prostrate,  without  resource.  Materialism  is  in  a still 
worse  condition.  When  all  the  blandishments  of  life  are  gone 
— -when  health  has  fled,  and  pleasure  bade,  of  course,  its  last 
adieu,  the  sceptic,  or  rather  the  materialist,  has  nothing  to 
hope  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  and  nothing  to  fear  beyond  that 
bourne.  He  is  furnished  with  no  arguments  against  self-des- 
truction, except  a contemplation  of  the  pain  attending  the  act 
—the  stain  that  may  attach  to  reputation  or  survivors — and 
that  horror  of  annihilation,  corresponding  with  the  instinctive 
fear  of  death,  implanted  in  the  breast  of  every  living  creature. 
These  being  overcome,  the  sceptic  determines  to  put  an  end,  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  to  his  sufferings  and  to  his  existence. 
The  only  causes  of  suicide,  in  my  opinion,  are,  insanity  and 
materialism.  No  man  of  sane  mind  and  of  firm  Christian  be- 


SANITARY  LAWS. 


5 


lief,  ever  yet  destroyed  himself.  A gust  of  passion  or  a mo- 
mentary inebriation  may  occasionally  lead  to  such  attempts ; 
but  they  form  no  exception  to  the  rule ; for  such  states  are 
those  of  temporary  madness.  It  is  but  right  to  observe  that, 
in  ninety-nine  out  of  an  hundred  instances,  the  suicide  is  insane 
at  the  moment  of  perpetrating  the  horrid  deed.  While  a ray 
of  hope  remains,  the  materialist  clings  to  life — the  idea  of  an- 
nihilation having  terrors  peculiar  to  itself — and  being  often 
more  repugnant  to  the  human  mind  than  even  the  conviction 
of  a future  state  of  punishment. 

In  fine,  were  there  no  other  advantages  resulting  from  early 
cultivation  of  religious  principles,  than  those  which  relate  ex- 
clusively to  our  present  state  of  existence — namely,  the  acqui- 
sition of  patience  under  temporary  affliction,  and  resignation 
under  irremediable  loss  of  health,  these  advantages  would  be 
invaluable.  They  would  be  the  best  legacy  of  the  parent — the 
best  heritage  of  the  child.* 

Health  may  be  considered  under  two  points  of  view — that 
which  relates  to  the  community,  and  that  which  respects  the 
individual.  In  modern  times,  and  especially  in  this  country, 
there  is  little  other  attention  paid  by  Government  to  public 
health,  than  the  removal  of  a few  nuisances,  and  the  establish- 
ment of  quarantines  against  plague,  which  is  not  likely  to  visit 
a country  where  it  would  be  starved  to  death  in  a month — and 
against  cholera,  which,  when  inclined  to  visit  a place,  can 
leap  over  a triple  cordon  of  Prussian  bayonets,  with  as  much 
ease  as  a wolf  vaults  over  the  palisades  of  a sheep-fold.  It 
may  be  both  curious  and  instructive  to  glance  at  the  difference 
between  ancient  and  modern  legislation  on  the  subject  of  public 
health.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  minute  regulations 


* Women,  though  possessed  of  more  acute  sensibilities  than  men,  have 
more  patience  under  sickness,  and  resignation  under  misfortune.  They  there- 
fore bear  pain  with  less  complaint,  and  sorrow  with  more  fortitude  than  the 
stronger  sex.  Though  much  of  this  difference  must  be  owing  to  physical 
temperament,  yet  much  is  also  to  be  placed  to  the  account  of  religious  feel- 
ings, which  are  far  stronger  in  the  female  than  the  male  breast. — 2 d Edit . 


6 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


respecting  diet,  ablution,  &c.  enforced  by  the  Hindoos,  the 
Egyptians,  the  Hebrews,  and  the  Greeks,  were  directed  to  the 
preservation  of  health,  though  under  the  form  of  religious  cere- 
monies ; the  priests,  who  were  the  physicians,  wisely  conclud- 
ing that  injunctions  would  be  better  obeyed,  when  they  were 
affirmed  to  be  mandates  from  Heaven,  than  if  they  were  con- 
sidered as  merely  of  human  invention.  Thus  Brahma  enjoined 
vegetable  diet,  and  prohibited  animal  food,  from  an  opinion  that 
such  diet  was  the  best  calculated  for  the  inhabitants  of  a burn- 
ing climate.  Though  mistaken  in  his  opinion,  as  to  the  salu- 
brity of  exclusive  vegetable  food,  yet  the  Hindoo  proselyte 
perseveres  in  the  supposed  divine  dogma  to  the  present  hour. 

And  so  with  the  Jews.  It  will  hardly  be  contended  that  the 
prohibition  of  pork  (the  most  nutritious  food  of  man)  was  a 
command  from  the  Almighty,  for  the  salvation  of  a Hebrew’s 
soul.  But  when  it  is  recollected  that  leprosy  was  prevalent  in 
Judea,  and  that  swine  were  believed  to  be  very  subject  to  that 
loathsome  malady,  the  prohibition  of  bacon  may  be  accounted 
for.  The  sentence  of  uncleanness  passed  by  Moses  on  so  many 
beasts,  birds,  and  fishes,  is  inexplicable  on  any  other  suppo- 
sition than  that  it  was  based  on  some  sanitary  code  of  diet. 
It  is  possible  that  this  restriction  and  uniformity  of  diet,  so 
tenaciously  maintained  by  the  Israelites  in  all  ages  and  coun- 
tries, may  be  one  of  several  causes  conducing  to  that  similarity 
of  features  and  constitutions  presented  by  this  remarkable 
people,  so  widely  scattered  over  the  surface  of  the  earth.  Their 
religious  ablutions  may  be  accounted  for  on  the  same  principle 
— and  so  their  laws  of  segregation,  directed  against  contagion. 

But  we  shall  now  come  to  less  debateable  ground.  It  is  clear 
that  the  Greeks  in  general,  and  Lycurgus  in  particular,  consi- 
dered a full  expansion  of  the  corporeal  organs  as  essential  to  a 
complete  development  of  the  mental  faculties  : — in  other  words, 
that  strength  of  mind  resulted  from,  or  was#  intimately  associ- 
ated with,  strength  of  body.  The  first  law  which  Lycurgus 
placed  on  the  national  sanitary  code,  was  somewhat  singular, 
namely,  the  destruction  of  all  children  born  with  deformity  or 


SPARTAN  SANITARY  LAWS.  / 

defect  of  any  kind  ! This  was  a pretty  effectual  mode  of  im- 
proving the  breed  of  Spartans  ! It  certainly  was  more  pre  - 
ventive of  bad  health,  than  conducive  to  longevity  in  the  indi- 
vidual. 

It  is  manifest  that  Lycurgus  was  more  solicitous  to  insure  a 
race  of  able-bodied  citizen  soldiers  to  defend  the  state,  than 
of  philosophers  and  poets  to  instruct  or  delight  mankind.  It  is 
impossible  he  could  be  ignorant  that  a great  mind  might  in- 
habit a feeble  body — and  that  genius  and  talent  were  not  incom- 
patible with  a crooked  spine  or  a club-foot.  Had  Pope  been 
born  in  Laconia,  the  Poet  of  Twickenham  would  never  have 
“ lisped  in  numbers,”  or  tuned  his  lyre  to  the  Rape  of  the 
Lock.  Had  Byron,  even,  been  a Spartan,  Child  Harolde  would 
have  found  a watery  grave  in  the  Eurotas,  or  been  hurled  over 
Mount  Taygeta,  and  Don  Juan  would  never  have  invoked  the 
ashes  of  Greece  from  the  towers  of  Missalounghi. 

The  Spartan  law  was  as  impolitic  as  it  was  inhuman.  Intel- 
lectual vigour  is  as  necessary  to  a nation  as  physical  force. 
Brain  is  at  least  as  useful  to  the  individual  as  bone  or  muscle. 
One  man  of  talent  and  probity  is  more  valuable  to  society  than 
a hundred  giants.  The  Grecian  camp  would  rather  have  spared 
Ajax  than  Ulysses.  Should  any  utilitarian  law,  like  that  of 
Lycurgus,  be  ever  revived  in  this  world,  the  principle  of  it 
ought  to  be  reversed.  Instead  of  a jury  of  doctors  to  pronounce 
on  the  physical  imperfections  of  the  body,  we  should  have  a 
board  of  phrenologists  to  guage  the  vicious  propensities  of  the 
mind.  In  such  cases,  if  all  those  whose  heads  presented  a pre- 
ponderance of  the  mere  animal  over  the  intellectual  organiza- 
tion, were  drowned,  we  should  then  indeed  be  going  to  the  root 
of  the  evil,  and  have  a radical  reform  in  human  nature  ! 

But  passing  over  the  barbarous  ordeal  in  the  sanitary  code  of 
Lycurgus,  let  us  see  whether  the  laws,  or  rather  the  customs 
(which  are  stronger)  of  the  Spartans,  furnish  any  useful  infor- 
mation towards  the  present  inquiry. 

During  the  first  seven  years  of  life,  the  Spartan  youth,  of  both 
sexes,  were  left  under  the  care  of  their  parents,  who  permitted 


8 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


the  energies  of  Nature  to  develop  the  physical  powers  of  their 
offspring,  without  any  check  to  their  exuberant  and  plastic  elas- 
ticity. The  propriety  of  the  custom  will  be  inquired  into  pre- 
sently. At  the  completion  of  the  seventh  year,  the  education, 
mental  and  corporeal,  was  undertaken  or  superintended  by  the 
State.  Both  sexes  were  subjected  to  a regular  system  or  dis- 
cipline of  bodily  and  intellectual  culture.  Their  sports,  their 
studies,  their  exercises,  and  probably  their  repasts,  were  all 
in  public  and  in  common.  They  were  early  and  gradually  ex- 
posed to  atmospherical  vicissitudes  of  every  kind.  Although 
moral,  religious,  and  literary  instruction  formed  part  of  this 
discipline  and  education,  it  is  indisputable  that  physical  per- 
fection was  more  anxiously  aimed  at  than  intellectual. 

The  exercises  of  the  body,  in  the  Gymnasia,  were  great  and 
prolonged,  according  as  years  advanced — while  the  food  for  the 
support  of  that  body,  was  simple,  frugal,  and  but  little  varied. 
Hunger  was  the  only  sauce — and  muscular  exertion  was  the 
sole  provocative.*  Such  a uniform  and  rigid  system  of  train- 
ing (in  which  the  females,  before  marriage,  participated)  must 
have  produced  a remarkable  similarity  of  constitution,  and  a 
considerable  congeniality  of  sentiment.  Military  glory  being 
more  the  object  of  education  than  literary  fame,  the  labours  of 
the  Gymnasium  (as  has  been  observed  before)  preponderated 
exceedingly  over  those  of  the  Portico.  The  influence  of  such 
systematic  training  on  health,  must  have  been  astonishing — 
and  scarcely  less  so  on  the  morale  than  on  the  'physique.  Such 
strenuous  exercise  and  simple  food  must  have  controlled  the 
passions,  and  nurtured  the  virtues  of  man,  beyond  all  the  pre- 
cepts of  priests  or  philosophers.  For  it  is  to  be  remembered 
that,  however  Utopian  such  a system  might  be  in  our  days,  it 


* According  to  Xenophon,  the  discipline  of  the  Persian  youth,  in  the  time 
of  Cyrus,  was  still  more  severe  than  that  of  the  Lacedaemonian.  Coarse  bread 
and  herbs  formed  the  diet  of  advanced  youth,  though  they  were  undergoing 
the  fatigues  of  military  exercises,  while  their  beds  were  the  earth,  with  the 
canopy  of  Heaven  for  their  curtains. 


BRAHMINICAL  AND  PYTHAGOREAN  DOCTRINES. 


9 


was  actually  reduced  to  practice  in  former  ages,  and  its  results 
recorded  in  authentic  history.  It  developed  the  bodily  powers 
to  the  utmost — it  nearly  annihilated  all  other  kinds  of  disease 
than  that  of  death,  the  inevitable  lot  of  mankind.  Even  in  our 
own  times,  this  rigid  regimen  and  discipline  have  been  success- 
fully adopted  by  individuals,  from  various  motives. 

With  all  these  advantages,  it  may  be  asked  how  and  why  did 
these  people  degenerate  ? Alas  ! there  is  a principle  of  decay 
in  nations  as  well  as  individuals.  It  is  also  to  be  borne  in  mind, 
that  the  ancients  had  no  true  religion  to  check  the  vices  of 
human  nature,  and  guide  the  principles  which  lead  to  happiness 
and  prosperity.  It  is  curious,  however,  that  all  those  states 
where  paganism  or  idolatry  prevailed,  have  crumbled  into  dust, 
or  are  tottering  on  the  verge  of  ruin  ; while  no  Christian  nation 
has  yet  degenerated  into  barbarism  or  lapsed  into  ignorance, 
since  the  dark  ages.  Even  Italy,  where  the  worst  forms  of 
government  are  united  with  the  least  pure  forms  of  Christianity, 
is  not  an  exception.  Even  there,  science,  literature,  art,  and 
even  morality  are  steadily,  though  slowly  advancing. 

Before  quitting  the  subject  of  public  hygiene,  it  may  be  pro- 
per to  glance  at  the  precepts  of  Pythagoras  and  his  disciples. 
These  precepts  or  doctrines  appear  to  have  been  founded  partly 
on  religious,  partly  on  moral,  and  partly  on  sanitary  principles. 
The  constant  conversion  of  every  kind  of  matter  from  one  form 
into  others — of  man  into  earth,  of  earth  into  vegetables,  and  of 
vegetables  into  animated  beings,  coupled  with  the  belief  that 
the  souls  of  men  migrated  into  the  bodies  of  animals,  may  have 
generated  scruples  in  the  minds  of  the  Brahminical  and  Pytha- 
gorean philosophers,  as  to  the  propriety  of  eating  any  thing  that 
had  life,  though  a deeper  philosophy  would  have  taught  them 
that  the  same  objection  lay  against  vegetable  food.  But  it  is 
probable  that  Pythagoras  was  swayed  more  by  philanthropic 
than  by  theological  principles  in  his  doctrines.  He  may  have 
thought,  and  not  without  reason,  that  those  who  slaughtered 
and  fed  on  the  flesh  of  animals,  would  acquire  a callosity  or 
insensibility  to  the  shedding  of  human  blood . That  this  wap 

c 


10 


ECONOMY"  OF  HEALTH. 


the  view  of  Pythagoras,  has  been  maintained  by  a modern  phi- 
losopher and  physician  of  supereminent  talents. 

Hence  drew  th’  enlightened  Sage,  the  moral  plan. 

That  Man  should  ever  be  the  friend  of  Man — 

Should  view  with  tenderness  all  living  forms. 

His  brother-emmets  and  his  sister-worms. 

Will  those  who  are  best  versed  in  a knowledge  of  mankind, 
and  who  have  best  observed  the  influence  of  habits,  regimen, 
and  other  external  agents  on  the  human  race,  deny  that  there  is 
any  truth  in  the  doctrines  of  Pythagoras  ? For  my  own  part, 
I had  rather  trust  my  life  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  shepherd 
who  tends  his  flocks  on  the  wild  mountain’s  side,  than  to  the 
butcher  who  slays  those  flocks  in  his  shambles,  and  inhales, 
from  morn  till  night,  the  reeking  odour  of  animal  gore.  Are 
not  the  Hindoos,  whose  food  is  almost  exclusively  vegetable, 
less  implacable,  ferocious,  and  passionate,  than  the  carnivorous 
nations  ? Does  not  a survey  of  the  animal  kingdom  bring  us  to 
the  same  conclusion  ? The  carnivore  are  much  more  fierce, 
rapacious,  and  cruel  in  their  nature,  than  the  herbjvor;e. 
Compare  the  horse  with  the  tiger — the  dove  with  the  vulture — 
the  fawn  with  the  leopard. 

The  Pythagorean  doctrines,  however,  were  very  erroneous 
in  a sanitary  point  of  view.  Man  was  decidedly  designed 
to  eat  both  animal  and  vegetable  food — and  the  Hindoos  do 
not  attain  longer  life  than  other  people  under  similar  circum- 
stances as  to  climate.  They  are  not  so  strong  as  the  Maho- 
metans of  the  same  country,  who  eat  animal  food.  But,  al- 
though Brahma  and  Pythagoras  greatly  overrated  the  salutary 
influence  of  their  dietetic  systems  on  health,  they  were  not 
totally  in  error.  There  are  many  disorders  which  do  not 
materially  curtail  the  usual  range  of  existence,  but  yet  disturb 
many  of  its  enjoyments.  Such  disorders  are  often  dependent 
on  the  quantity  of  animal  food  consumed  by  Europeans,  and 
especially  by  Englishmen.  There  are  systems  of  diet,  on  the 
other  hand,  which  do  not,  perhaps,  conduce  to  longevity,  or  to 
robust  health,  but  which  render  the  stream  of  time  much  more 


LIFE  DIVIDED  INTO  TEN  SEPTENNIADS. 


11 


placid^  and  life  itself  less  dolorous  than  they  otherwise  would 
be.  Such,  for  instance,  is  the  slender  and  unirritating  food  of 
the  Hindoo. 

The  foregoing  observations  are  sufficient  to  shew  that,  in 
ancient  times,  public  hygiene  or  the  health  of  the  community, 
was  often  made  the  subject  of  religious,  legislative,  or  philoso- 
phical enactments,  from  each  of  which  some  useful  hints  may 
be  obtained.  In  our  times,  all  is  changed.  Every  individual 
now  legislates  for  himself,  in  respect  to  his  health,  or  intrusts  it, 
when  impaired,  to  the  care  of  the  physician.  But,  since  legis- 
lators, divines,  and  philosophers  have  ceased  to  impose  their 
sanitary  regulations  on  the  people,  many  hundred  volumes 
have  been  written  on  health  and  longevity.  Almost  the  only 
one,  and  perhaps  the  best,  which  is  consulted  in  England,  is 
the  voluminous  compilation  of  our  countryman,  Sir  John  Sin- 
clair, who  was  not  a physician.  He,  like  his  predecessors,  has 
fallen  into  the  error  of  giving  us  a multiplicity  of  details,  with  a 
paucity  of  principles  : — the  former , too  often  inapplicable  or 
impracticable — the  latter , very  generally  unintelligible  or  erro- 
neous. The  plans  or  arrangements  of  authors,  on  this  subject, 
have  been  innumerable.  Neither  these  nor  the  materials  of  their 
tomes  shall  I copy ; but  draw  on  the  resources  of  my  own  ob- 
servation and  reflection  for  whatever  I adduce  in  this  Essay. 

I shall  divide  the  life  of  man — brief  as  it  is  found  in  final 
retrospect,  but  interminable  as  it  appears  in  early  perspective — 
into  ten  epochs  or  periods,  of  seven  years  each,  which,  though 
blending  and  amalgamating  at  their  junctions,  are  yet  clearly 
marked  by  distinctive  characteristics  in  their  several  phases. 
Simple  and  isolated  as  the  subject  of  health  may  seem,  in 
these  ten  Septenniads,  it  will  probably  be  found  to  touch,  if  not 
embrace 

“ Quicquid  agunt  Homines,  votum,  timor,  ira,  voluptas/’ 

many — perhaps  most  of  those  actions,  passions,  enjoyments, 
and  sufferings  that  constitute  the  drama  of  human  life  ! 


12 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


FIRST  SEPTENNIAD. 

[1  to  7 years  *~] 

For  some  time  after  man’s  entrance  into  the  world,  his  exist- 
ence is  merely  animal,  or  physical.  He  cries,  feeds,  and  sleeps. 
His  intellectual  functions  are  nearly  null;  while  those  of  the 
little  bodily  fabric  are  in  a state  of  the  most  intense  activity. 
Gradually  the  senses  awake,  and  the  avenues  of  communication 
between  the  surrounding  world  and  the  living  microcosm,  are 
opened.  External  impressions  are  conveyed  to  the  sensorium 
or  organ  of  the  mind,  and  there  produce  sensations,  which  be- 
come progressively  more  distinct,  and,  by  frequent  reiteration, 
lay  the  foundation  of  memory  and  association.  During  the 
first  septenary  period,  reflection  can  hardly  be  said  to  take 
place.  Nature  is  busily  employed  in  building  up  the  corporeal 
structure — and  the  mind  is  occupied,  almost  exclusively,  in 
storing  up  those  materials  for  future  thought,  which  the  vivid 
senses  are  incessantly  pouring  in  on  the  sensory  of  the  soul. 

These  few  facts  (and  they  might  be  multiplied  to  any  extent) 
may  furnish  important  hints  to  the  parent,  the  pedagogue,  and 
the  philanthropist.  It  is  during  the  first  and  second  Septen- 
niads,  that  the  foundations  of  health  and  happiness,  of  physical 
force,  intellectual  acquirements,  and  moral  rectitude,  are  all  laid  ! 
Yet  the  arch-enemy  of  mankind  would  have  found  it  difficult  to 
devise  a system  or  code  of  education  for  body  and  mind,  better 
calculated  to  mar  each  and  every  of  the  above  objects,  than  that 
which  is  adopted  by  the  wise  men  of  the  earth  at  this  moment. 
The  first  and  second  Septenniads  are  probably  the  most  impor- 
tant to  the  interests  of  the  individual  and  of  society,  of  the  whole 
ten.  It  is  while  the  wax  is  ductile  that  the  model  is  easily 
formed.  In  the  early  part  of  childhood,  and  even  of  youth, 


* The  latter  year  in  each  Septenniacl  is  always  included  and  considered  as 
completed. 


EDUCATION  DURING  THE  FIRST  SEPTENNIAD. 


13 


every  fibre  is  so  redolent — so  exuberant  of  vitality,  that  rest  is 
pain,  and  motion  is  pleasure.  In  infancy  the  organ  of  the 
mind  presides  over,  and  furnishes  energy  to,  every  other  organ 
and  function  in  the  body.  At  this  period,  be  it  remembered, 
these  organs  and  functions  are  in  the  greatest  degree  of  growth 
and  activity;  and  therefore  the  brain  (or  organ  of  the  mind) 
requires  to  be  at  liberty  to  direct  its  undivided  influence  to  their 
support.  • If  it  were  possible  to  bring  intellectual  operations 
into  play,  in  the  mind  of  the  infant,  the  brain  could  not  supply 
the  proper  nervous  power  for  digestion,  assimilation,  and  nutri- 
tion ; and  the  whole  machine  would  languish  or  decay.  Now 
these  facts  apply,  more  or  less,  to  a great  part  of  the  first  Sep- 
tenniad — or  even  of  the  second — and  here  we  have  the  true 
physiological  cause  and  explanation  of  the  havoc  which  is  pro- 
duced in  youthful  frames  by  premature  exertion  of  the  intellec- 
tual faculties  ! Nor  is  it  the  body  exclusively  that  suffers  from 
precocious  culture  of  the  mind.  The  material  tenement  of  the 
soul  cannot  be  shattered  without  injury  to  its  spiritual  tenant. 
It  may  be  true,  in  some  figurative  sense,  that 

“ The  soul’s  dark  cottage,  batter’d  and  decay’d. 

Admits  new  lights  through  chinks  which  time  has  made.” 

This  can  only  refer  to  the  common  wear  and  tear  of  body,  and 
the  lights  of  age  and  experience — but,  even  in  this  point  of 
view,  I doubt  the  dogma  of  the  bard,  and  apprehend  that  the 
said  lights  would  shine  full  as  well  through  the  proper  windows 
of  the  “ soul’s  dark  cottage,”  as  through  those  cracks  and  rents 
that  are  effected  by  time  and  infirmity. 

I have  alluded  to  the  Spartan  custom  of  leaving  the  youth, 
during  the  first  seven  years,  under  the  guidance  of  the  parents, 
who  permitted  the  physical  powers  of  their  offspring  to  develop 
themselves  without  control.  What  is  the  case  with  us  ? Dur- 
ing a considerable  portion  of  that  period  the  youth  is  “ got  out 
of  the  way,”  and  imprisoned  in  a scholastic  hot-bed  or  nursery, 
where  the  “ young  ideas,”  instead  of  being  left  to  shoot  out 
slowly,  are  forced  out  rapidly,  to  the  great  detriment  of  the  in- 


14 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


tellectual  soil,  thus  exhausted  by  too  early  and  too  frequent 
crops. 

It  has  been  shewn  that  the  organ  of  the  mind,  in  the  first 
stages  of  our  existence,  is  exclusively  occupied  with  its  animal 
functions.  It  soon,  however,  is  able  to  allot  a portion  of  its 
power  to  the  operations  of  the  immaterial  tenant.  If  this  power 
were  more  gradually  and  gently  exercised  than  it  now  is,  we 
would  have  stronger  frames  and  sounder  minds.  We  might 
unite,  in  a considerable  degree,  the  strength  of  the  savage  with 
the  wisdom  of  the  sage.  As  education,  in  this,  as  well  as  in  the 
two  succeeding  Septenniads,  is  both  physical  and  moral,  we 
shall  adopt  this  division  of  the  subject. 

PHYSICAL  EDUCATION  OF  THE  FIRST  SEPTENNIAD. 

1.  Food. — It  is  fortunate  for  man  that  nature  furnishes  him 
with  sustenance  during  the  first  nine  months  of  his  existence. 
The  milk  of  a healthy  nurse  is  a more  salutary  and  scientific 
compound  of  animal  and  vegetable  nutriment  than  he  ever  after- 
wards imbibes.  He  has  hardly  left  his  mother’s  bosom,  how- 
ever, before  the  work  of  mischief  commences,  and  which  seldom 
ceases  till  he  approaches  second  childhood,  or  has  suffered  se- 
verely by  the  imprudence  of  his  parents  and  the  early  indulgence 
of  his  own  appetites  ! Nature  furnishes  teeth,  as  solid  food 
becomes  necessary  ; and  the  transition  from  milk  to  meat  should 
not  be  too  abrupt.  The  teeth  are  protruded  slowly  and  succes- 
sively; and,  during  this  period,  milk  and  farinaceous  food 
should  predominate  over  that  which  is  purely  animal. 

But  errors  of  diet,  in  the  first  Septenniad,  do  not  consist  so 
much  in  the  quantity  of  food,  as  in  the  provocative  variety  with 
which  the  infantile  and  unsophisticated  palate  is  daily  stimu- 
lated. The  rapid  growth  of  infancy  requires  an  abundant  sup- 
ply of  plain  nutritious  aliment ; but  it  is  at  this  early  period,  that 
simplicity  in  kind,  and  regularity  in  the  periods  of  meals,  would 
establish  the  foundation  for  order  and  punctuality  in  many  other 
things,  and  thus  conduce  to  health  and  happiness  through  life. 


PHYSICAL  EDUCATION CLOATHING. 


15 


As  the  first  nutriment  which  Nature  furnishes,  is  a compound 
of  animal  and  vegetable  matters,  so  should  it  be  for  ever  after- 
wards. In  youth,  and  especially  during  the  first  Septenniad, 
milk  and  farinaceous  substances  should  form  the  major  part  of 
the  diet,  with  tender  animal  food  once  a-day.  As  the  teeth 
multiply,  the  proportions  of  the  two  kinds  of  sustenance  ought 
gradually  and  progressively  to  vary. 

2.  Cloathing. — Because  we  come  naked  into  the  world,  it 
does  not  follow  that  we  should  remain  so.  Nature  supplies 
animals  with  coats,  because  the  parents  of  animals  have  no 
manufactories  of  linen  and  woollen.  The  dress  with  which 
Nature  cloathes  the  young  animal  is  nearly  uniform  over  the 
whole  body ; but  not  so  that  which  man,  or  rather  woman  con- 
structs for  the  infant.  Some  parts  are  covered  five-fold — some 
left  naked.  In  many  of  the  most  civilized  countries  of  the 
world,  the  child  is  placed  in  “ durance  vile” — in  bondage — or 
at  least  in  bandage,  the  moment  it  sees  the  light  ! This  prac- 
tice, which  commences  in  ignorance,  is  continued  by  fashion, 
till  it  ends  in  disease,  and  entails  misery  and  sufferings  on  the 
individual  and  the  offspring,  from  generation  to  generation. 
But  more  of  this  hereafter. 

If  many  of  our  disorders  are  produced  through  the  agency  of 
improper  food  or  deleterious  substances  on  the  internal  organs, 
so  a great  number  of  maladies  are  induced  through  the  medium 
of  atmospheric  impressions  and  vicissitudes  on  the  external  sur- 
face of  the  body.  These  cannot  be  counteracted  or  rendered 
harmless  by  either  very  warm  or  very  light  cloathing.  The 
great  antidote  to  alternations  of  climate,  consists  in  early  and 
habitual  exposure  to  transitions  of  temperature,  drought,  humi- 
dity, &c.  This  may  be  safely  effected  at  all  periods  of  life, 
from  infancy  to  old  age;  and  the  practice,  which  is  both  easy 
and  pleasant  in  operation,  would  save,  annually,  an  immense 
waste  of  life,  and  a prodigious  amount  of  sufferings  in  this 
country.  It  is  simply  the  alternate  application  of  warm  and 
cold  water  (by  immersion  or  sponging) — during  the  first  year, 


16 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


or  two,  to  the  whole  body — and  afterwards,  to  the  face,  neck, 
and  upper  parts  of  the  chest,  every  morning.  The  application 
of  cold  water  alone,  will  not  be  sufficient.  There  must  be  the 
sudden  and  rapid  succession  of  heat  and  cold — which  I would 
term  the  calido-frigid  fortifier,  or  preservative.  This 
process  not  only  imitates  and  obviates  the  atmospheric  vicissi- 
tudes of  our  own  climate ; but  is,  in  itself,  salutary  in  any  cli- 
mate. The  hot  water  excites  the  surface  to  which  it  is  applied, 
and  fills  the  capillary  vessels  with  blood.  The  cold  water 
braces  the  vessels  thus  distended,  without  repelling  the  fluid 
too  forcibly  towards  the  interior,  or  producing  a chill — since 
the  heat  and  excitement  of  the  surface  secure  us  against  a sud- 
den retrocession. 

It  may  be  asked  “ how  does  this  protect  us  from  the  intro- 
duction of  cold  air  into  the  lungs  ?”  I answer,  that  Nature 
provides  against  this  daily  and  hourly  contingency.  The  tem- 
perature of  the  atmospheric  air  is  brought  to  a par  with  that 
of  the  body,  while  passing  down  through  the  air-tubes,  and 
before  it  reaches  the  air-cells  of  the  lungs.  For  one  cold  that 
is  caught  by  inhaling  cold  air,  one  hundred  colds  are  induced  by 
the  agency  of  cold  and  moisture  on  the  surface  of  the  body. 
The  calido-frigid  lavation  or  sponging,  above-mentioned, 
secures  us  effectually  from  face-aches,  ear-aches,  tooth-aches,* 
and  head-aches  ; besides  rendering  us  insusceptible  of  colds, 
coughs — and  in  no  small  number  of  instances — of  consump- 
tion itself.  The  practice  is  common  in  Russia  and  some  other 
countries ; and  the  principle  is  well  understood  by  the  profes- 
sion in  all  countries  ; but  the  adoption  of  the  practice  is  exceed- 
ingly limited  in  these  Islands,  where  it  would  prove  extremely 
salutary.  Excepting  in  infancy,  there  is  no  occasion  for  the 
calido-frigid  application  to  the  whole  body , by  means  of  im- 
mersion or  sponging  : — at  all  periods  of  life  afterwards,  the  mere 


* The  mouth  should  be  rinsed  with  hot  water  and  then  immediately  with 
cold,  every  morning  throughout  the  year.  If  this  were  regularly  done  from 
infancy,  the  dentist  might  shut  up  shop. 


EXERCISE. 


17 


sponging  of  the  upper  parts  of  the  body,  already  mentioned  (to 
which  I would  add,  the  feet),  first  with  hot,  and  then  immedi- 
ately with  cold  water,  will  be  quite  sufficient  to  prevent  a mul- 
titude of  ills,  a host  of  infirmities — and,  let  me  add,  a number 
of  deformities,  to  which  flesh  is  heir,  without  this  precaution. 

As  to  cloathing,  during  the  first  Septenniad,  I shall  say  little 
more  than  that  it  should  be  warm,  light,  and  loose.  It  will  be 
time  enough — alas  ! too  soon — to  imitate  the  Egyptian  mummy, 
when  girls  become  belles,  and  boys  beaux.  I beg,  for  the  first 
and  second  Septenniads  at  least,  full  liberty  for  the  lungs  to  take 
air,  the  stomach  food,  and  the  limbs  exercise,  before  they  are 

cribb’d,  cabin’d,  and  confin’d”  by  those  destructive  operatives, 
the  milliner,  the  tailor,  and  the  boot-maker,  cum  multis  aliis , 
who  rank  high  among  the  purveyors  or  jackals  to  the  doctor  and 
the  undertaker  ! 

Much  stress  has  been  laid  upon  the  use  of  flannel  in  all  peri- 
ods of  our  life.  If  the  preservative  against  vicissitudes  of  cli- 
mate, to  which  I have  alluded,  be  employed,  flannel  will  seldom 
be  necessary,  except  where  the  constitution  is  very  infirm,  or 
the  disposition  to  glandular  affections  prominent.  At  all  events, 
it  should  be  very  light,  and  wrorn  outside  of  the  linen,  in  this 
tender  age. 

3.  Exercise. — During  the  first  Septenniad,  exercise  may  be 
left  almost  entirely  to  the  impulses  of  Nature.  The  great  mo- 
dern error  is  the  prevention  of  bodily  exercise  by  too  early  and 
prolonged  culture  of  the  mind.  In  the  first  years  of  life,  exer- 
cise should  be  play,  and  play  should  be  exercise.  Towards  the 
end  of  the  first  Septenniad,  some  degree  of  order  or  method 
may  be  introduced  into  playful  exercise,  because  it  will  be  es- 
sential to  health  in  the  second  and  third  epochs.  Even  in  this 
first  epoch,  exercise  in  the  open  air  should  be  enjoined,  as  much 
as  the  season  and  other  circumstances  will  permit.  The  win- 
dows of  the  nursery  ought  to  be  open  during  the  greater  part  of 
the  day,  and  the  nursery-maids  and  mistresses,  who  cannot  bear 
the  air,  are  very  unfit  for  the  physical  education  of  children. 

D 


18 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


4.  Sleep. — In  early  infancy,  the  child,  if  well,  only  wakes 
to  suck,  and  then  falls  asleep  again.  Nutrition,  at  that  period, 
seems  to  be  the  sole  end  and  object  of  Nature — and  this  object 
is  best  attained  during  sleep.  In  that  state,  the  whole  powers 
of  the  constitution,  and  more  especially  of  the  digestive  organs, 
are  concentrated  on  the  process  of  converting  the  milk  of  the 
nurse  into  the  flesh  and  blood  of  the  child.  Throughout  all 
periods  of  life  afterwards,  it  is  found  that  rest  at  least,  if  not 
sleep,  promotes  digestion — and  that  corporeal  or  mental  exer- 
tion disturbs  or  retards  that  important  process.  The  sleep  of 
infants  is  greatly  interrupted  by  irritation  in  the  stomach  and 
bowels  from  improper  food  of  the  nurse.  Hence  the  artificial 
modes  of  inducing  sleep  by  the  motion  of  the  cradle — the  music 
of  the  mother’s  voice — or  the  reprehensible  practice  of  exhibit- 
ing soothing  medicines.  A child  never  cries  but  from  pain, 
and,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  this  pain  results  from  indiscretions 
of  diet  on  the  part  of  the  mother  or  wet-nurse.  The  instances 
are  very  few  indeed  where  opiates  of  any  kind  can  be  safely 
given  to  children  during  the  first  Septenniad.  The  syrups, 
paregorics,  and  carminatives,  so  often  and  so  rashly  adminis- 
tered to  infants,  are  little  less  than  poisons  in  disguise.  As 
acidities  in  the  first  passages  are  the  most  common  causes  of 
pain  and  sleeplessness  in  children,  so  a little  magnesia  or  soda 
will  often  sooth  and  lull  to  repose  when  opiates  would  increase 
the  irritation.  This  applies  indeed  to  many  periods  of  riper 
years.  Twenty  grains  of  soda  going  to  bed  will  often  procure 
tranquil  sleep,  and  ward  off  the  nightmare. 


MORAL  education  of  the  first  septenniad. 

The  first  seven  years  of  life  must  not  be  given  up  entirely  to 
the  physical  development  of  the  constitution  ; though  that  is  a 
most  important  part  of  the  parent’s  duty.  A great  deal  of  moral 
culture  may  be  effected  in  this  period  : but  I apprehend  that  it 
ought  to  be  very  different  in  kind,  in  mode,  and  in  degree,  from 


MORAL  EDUCATION. 


19 


what  it  is  at  present.  During  several  years  of  this  first  Septen- 
nial the  children  of  the  lower,  and  even  of  the  middle  classes 
are  cooped  up  in  a crowded  and  unwholesome  school-room,  for 
many  hours  in  the  day,  to  the  great  detriment  of  their  health 
and  morals,  and  with  very  little  benefit  to  their  intellectual 
faculties.  Among  the  higher  classes,  it  is  not  so  bad ; yet  there, 
the  children  are  too  much  drilled  by  tutor  or  governess,  and  by 
far  too  little  exercised  in  body. 

The  principle  which  I advocate  is  this  : that,  during  the  first, 
and  even  during  the  second  Septenniad,  the  amount  of  elemen- 
tary learning  required  should  be  less,  and  the  daily  periods  of 
study  shorter : — that  sport  and  exercise  should  be  the  regular 
and  unfailing  premium  o n prompt  and  punctual  acquisition  of 
the  lessons  prescribed — in  short,  that  elementary  education 
should  be  acquired  “ cito,  tute,  ac  jucund6” — instead  of  being 
a wearisome  task,  irksome  to  the  mind,  and  injurious  to  the 
body. 

But  if  I declare  myself  adverse  to  the  system  of  precocious 
exercise  of  the  intellect,  I am  an  advocate  for  early  moral  cul- 
ture of  the  mind.  It  is  during  the  first  years  of  our  existence, 
that  the  foundation  of  habits  and  manners  is  laid ; and  these 
will  be  good  or  bad,  afterwards,  according  to  their  foundations. 
Order  is  truly  said  to  be  “ Heaven’s  first  law” — and  so  it 
should  be  the  first  injunction  on  childhood.  The  brightest 
talents  are  often  rendered  useless  by  the  want  of  order  and  sys- 
tem in  our  amusements,  studies,  and  avocations.  The  best 
temper  or  the  purest  intention  will  not  compensate  for  want  of 
regularity,  industry,  and  punctuality.  Habit  is  the  result  of 
impression , rather  than  of  reflection  ; and  youth  is  the  age  for 
receiving  impressions  rather  than  for  exercising  the  judgment. 
Order  may  be  instilled  into  the  juvenile  mind  long  before  that 
mind  is  capable  of  perceiving  the  utility  of  the  discipline ; in 
the  same  way  that  the  rules  of  grammar  are  learnt  before  the 
application  of  these  rules  can  be  even  imagined  by  the  pupil. 
From  long  study,  and,  perhaps,  a considerable  knowledge  of 
human  nature,  I most  earnestly  exhort  parents,  guardians,  and 


20 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH, 


tutors,  to  enforce,  with  all  their  energy,  the  most  rigid  system 
of  order,  regularity,  and  punctuality,  from  the  very  ear- 
liest period  of  infancy  up  to  the  age  of  discretion.  Half,  and 
more  than  half  of  our  miseries,  crimes,  and  misfortunes,  in  after 
life,  are  attributable  to  the  misplaced  indulgence,  or  culpable 
negligence  of  our  parents.  “ Spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child,’  ’ 
is  a maxim  that  was  founded  in  experience,  though  it  has  been 
nearly  exploded  by  speculative  philanthropists  not  deeply  versed 
in  the  knowledge  of  man.  The  rod,  in  most  cases,  may  be 
spared ; but,  if  order  and  obedience  cannot  be  enforced  by  other 
means,  the  rod  should  be  applied. 

The  whole  material  world,  and,  as  far  as  we  can  judge,  the 
whole  universe,  is  subjected  to,  and  governed  by,  certain  laws 
of  periodicity,  which  preserve  order  and  harmony  everywhere. 
Our  mental  and  corporeal  constitutions  are  controlled  by  simi- 
lar laws  of  periodicity,  and  we  should  subject  all  our  actions, 
passions,  pleasures,  and  labours  to  laws,  in  imitation  of  those 
which  Nature  has  established.  Thus,  in  infancy  and  youth, 
the  sleep,  exercise,  play,  meals — every  thing,  in  short,  which  is 
done,  should  be  done  at  regular  and  stated  periods,  and  the  habit 
of  regularity,  thus  early  established,  would  become  a second 
nature,  and  prove  a real  blessing  through  life.  There  is  not  a 
single  office,  profession,  or  avocation,  from  the  high  duties  of 
the  Monarch  down  to  the  vile  drudgery  of  the  dustman,  that 
does  not  owe  half  its  honours,  respectability,  and  success  to 


punctuality. 


TH  E SCHOOL  M A ST  JO  It . 


21 


SECOND  SEPTENNIAD, 

[7  to  14  years.] 

“ Creeping,  like  snail,  unwillingly  to  school.” 

The  Second  (too  oft  the  first)  Septenniad  introduces  us  to  one 
of  the  most  important  personages  in  this  world — a personage* 
whose  image  is  never  effaced  from  our  memory,  to  the  latest 
day  of  our  existence  ! Who  has  ever  forgotten  that  happy  or 
unhappy  epoch  of  our  lives,  and  that  stern  arbiter  of  our  fate, 
when  we  were  wont — 

to  trace 

The  day’s  disaster  in  his  morning  face  ? 

After  the  lapse  of  half  a century,  the  lineaments  of  his  counte- 
nance are  as  fresh  on  the  tablet  of  my  memory,  as  on  the  first 
day  of  their  impression.  These  reminiscences  are  not  unaccom- 
panied by  some  compunctions  of  conscience.  The  personage  in 
question,  is  one  who  is  more  sinned  against  than  sinning.’ ' * 
His  office  can  only  be  envied  by  that  public  functionary  who 
executes  the  last  and  most  painful  sentence  of  the  law — or  per- 
haps by  the  victim,  who  ascends  the  scaffold  without  hope  of 
reprieve  ! He  who  cultivates  the  soil  under  his  foot,  has  gene- 
rally a fair  recompence  for  his  labour — and,  at  all  events,  he  is 
not  upbraided  for  the  failure  of  his  harvests.  But  he  who  cul- 
tivates the  brains  of  pupils,  whether  male  or  female,  has  often 
a most  ungrateful  task  to  perform.  To  hope  for  a good  crop  of 
science  or  literature  from  some  intellects,  is  about  the  same, 
as  to  expect  olives  to  thrive  on  the  craggy  summit  of  Ben  Nevis, 
or  the  pine- apple  to  expand  amid  the  Glaciers  of  Grindenwalde. 
Yet,  from  these  steril  regions  of  mind,  the  hapless  pedagogue  is 
expected  by  parents  to  turn  out  Miltons,  Lockes,  and  Newtons, 
with  as  much  facility  as  a gardener  raises  brocoli  or  cauliflowers 
from  the  rich  alluvial  grounds  about  Fulham  ! It  is  in  vain 
for  poor  Syntax  to  urge  in  excuse,  that 


22 


ECONOMY  OF  II  ft  ALT  II . 


" Non  ex  aliquovis  ligno  fit  Mercurius.” 

This  is  only  adding  insult  to  injury,  in  the  eyes  of  the  parents, 
who  consider  that  any  hint  of  imperfection  in  the  offspring,  is, 
by  inuendo,  a reproach  cast  on  themselves.  Under  such  cir- 
cumstances, it  is  not  much  to  be  wondered  at,  if  the  preceptor, 
thus  compelled 

“ To  force  a churlish  soil  for  scanty  bread,” 

should  sometimes  become  a little  severe  and  morose  himself. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  I believe  that  few  of  our  youth  (of  either 
sex^,  who  evinced  talent  or  assiduity  in  their  juvenile  studies, 
have  much  reason  to  associate  the  memory  of  the  school- 
master. with  feelings  of  resentment  or  reproach. 

It  is  in  this  Septenniad,  which  may  be  stiled,  par  excellence , 
the  scholastic,  that  the  seeds  of  much  bodily  ill  and  moral  evil 
are  sown.  In  this,  and  often  in  the  latter  part  of  the  first  Sep- 
tenniad, the  powers  of  the  mind  are  forced,  and  those  of  the 
body  are  crippled.  The  progress  of  civilization,  literature,  sci- 
ence, and  refinement,  has  rendered  this  state  of  things  unavoid- 
able. It  may  be  mitigated,  but  it  cannot  be  prevented.  Know- 
ledge is  power.  Bodily  strength  is  now  of  little  use  in  the 
struggle  for  power,  riches,  or  fame  : — mental  endowments  and 
acquirements  are  all  in  all.  Togae  cedant  Anna  ! The  soldier 
of  a hundred  battles,  and  as  many  victories,  doffs  the  glittering 
helmet  and  nodding  plume,  to  assume  the  scholar’s  cap  and 
golden  tassel.  He  throws'  aside  the  baton,  and  takes  up  the 
pen.  Instead  of  the  short,  and  spirit-stirring  address  to  his 
compact  cohorts  on  the  carnage-covered  field,  he  harangues 
whole  comitia  of  learned  doctors  and  grave  divines,  in  the  ac- 
cents, and  even  in  the  language  of  Cicero  ! If  this  be  not  the 
u march  of  intellect,”  from  bannered  tents  to  academic  bowers, 
I know  not  what  is.  It  is  a striking  illustration  and  proof  that 
the  star  of  the  morale  is  in  the  ascendant  over  that  of  th z phy- 
sique— that  mind  transcends  matter — and  that  genius  is  superior 
to  strength. 

But  this  docs  not  prove  that  we  arc  steering  quite  free  from 


SCHOOLS. 


23 


error,  in  cultivating  the  mind  at  the  expense  of  the  body.  It  is 
the  duty  of  the  medical  philosopher,  therefore,  who  has  the  best 
means  of  ascertaining  the  effects  of  excessive  education,  to  point 
out  the  evil,  and,  if  possible,  to  suggest  the  remedy. 

It  will  not  be  necessary  to  advert  to  more  than  the  three 
principal  modes  of  elementary  instruction,  viz.  private  tuition — 
public  day-schools — and  boarding-schools  or  seminaries.  If  we 
were  to  look  merely  to  the  health  of  the  body , I should  prefer 
the  domestic  tutor;  but,  all  things  considered,  the  second  mode, 
or  middle  course — a public  day-school  (as  the  Westminster, 
London  Universit}^,  King’s  College,  &c.  &c.)  is  the  best — veri- 
fying the  old  maxim,  “ in  medio  tutissimus  ibis.”  The  first 
mode  is  the  most  expensive — the  second  is  the  most  beneficial, 
and  the  third  is  the  most  convenient.  The  private  or  domestic 
tuition  is  best  calculated  for  the  nobility,  and  higher  grades  of 
the  aristocracy,  among  some  of  whom  there  seems  to  prevail, 
whether  for  good  or  evil,  an  idea  that  there  are  two  species  in 
the  human  race,  between  which  there  should  be  as  little  inter- 
course as  possible. 

The  second  mode  of  education  (the  public  day-school)  is  best 
adapted  for  all  those  who  are  to  depend  on  their  intellects  through 
life — namely,  the  whole  of  the  learned  and  scientific  professions 
— more  especially  divinity,  law,  and  physic.  Those  who  are 
likely  to  mix  much  with  their  fellow-creatures  during  their 
sojourn  in  this  world,  had  better  begin  to  do  so  in  a public 
school.  Knives  are  sharpened  by  being  rubbed  against  each 
other  : — so  are  intellects.  The  flint  and  the  steel  will  not  emit 
sparks  unless  they  come  into  collision  : — neither  will  brains. 
The  coldest  marble  and  the  basest  metal  will  glow  with  heat  by 
friction  ; and  the  solid  oak  wrill  burst  into  flame  by  the  same 
operation.  The  emulation  of  a public  school  will  call  energies 
into  action,  that  would  otherwise  lie  for  ever  dormant  in  the  hu- 
man mind. 

To  the  boarding-school  there  are  objections,  more  or  less 
cogent,  according  to  the  extent  of  the  establishment,  and  the 
degree  of  wisdom  with  which  it  is  conducted.  It  cannot  afford 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


24 

such  a field  for  competition  as  a public  school ; and  the  youth 
is  not  under  the  parental  roof  and  eye  during  extra-scholastic 
hours.  But  as  boarding-schools  must  ever  be  the  seminaries  of 
education  for  nine-tenths  of  the  better  classes  of  society,  it  is  of 
the  utmost  consequence  that  the  conductors  of  such  institutions 
should  have  enlightened  views  on  the  subject  of  education,  both 
as  respects  the  morale  and  the  physique — the  health  and  the 
happiness  of  the  pupil. 

Whether  the  scholastic  institution  be  large  or  small,  public 
or  private,  one  radical  evil  is  sure  to  pervade  the  system  of  edu- 
cation pursued  therein — namely  (and  I cannot  repeat  it  too  of- 
ten), the  disproportion  between  exercise  of  the  mind  and  exer- 
cise of  the  body — not  merely  as  respects  the  sum  total  of  each 
species  of  exercise,  but  the  mode  of  its  distribution.  The  grasp 
at  learning  is  preternatural,  over-reaching,  and  exhausting.  It 
is  engendered  and  sustained  by  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  the 
density  of  population,  and  the  difficulty  of  providing  for  families. 
Our  ambition  to  become  great  is  perpetually  increasing  with 
the  augmentation  of  knowledge,  while  our  means  of  gratifying 
that  ambition  are  constantly  diminishing.  If  this  be  true,  and  I 
believe  it  cannot  be  controverted,  we  are  evidently  in  a fair  way 
to  illustrate  the  picture  drawn  by  the  Roman  poet,  some  twenty 
centuries  ago  : — 

hie  vivimus  ambitiosa 

Paupertate  omnes. 

But  to  return  to  the  school.  The  lessons  imposed  on  youth 
are  too  long  ; and  so,  of  course,  are  the  periods  of  study.  The 
consequence  is,  that  the  lesson  is  not  got  well,  because  it  is  learnt 
amid  languor  and  fatigue  of  the  intellect.  The  grand  principle 
of  education  is,  or  rather  ought  to  be,  the  rapid  and  the  perfect 
acquisition  of  small  portions  of  learning  at  a time,  the  punctual 
premium  being  the  interval  of  play.  In  this  way,  the  idea  of 
knowledge  would  be  constantly  associated  with  that  of  pleasure; 
and  each  impression  on  the  juvenile  mind  being  vivid  and  dis  • 
tinet,  would  consequently  be  lasting. 

But  if  the  periods  of  study  in  the  first  years  of  the  second 


SCHOOLS. 


25 


Septenniad  were  reduced  in  length,  as  well  as  in  the  whole 
daily  amount,  I am  far  from  thinking  that  the  sum  total  of 
elementary  learning  acquired  during  the  scholastic  Septenniad, 
would  be  thereby  diminished.  What  is  lost  in  letters  will  be 
gained  in  health  ; and  this  profitable  exchange  may  enable  the 
youth  to  sustain  those  increased  exertions  of  the  intellect  which 
devolve  on  ulterior  stages  of  scholastic  and  collegiate  discipline. 
It  is  to  be  remembered,  also,  that  the  great  majority  of  pupils 
are  designed  for  other  than  the  learned  professions ; and  to 
them  a modicum  of  health  is  often  of  more  value  than  a mag- 
num of  literature. 

But,  while  I advocate  more  frequent  intervals  of  relaxation 
from  study,  I would  suggest  to  the  directors  of  schools  a greater 
attention  to  systematic  exercises.  The  severe  and  athletic  gym- 
nastics introduced  some  years  ago  by  Volker,  with  all  the  en- 
thusiasm of  a German,  were  better  adapted  to  the  Spartan  youth, 
whose  progenitors,  male  and  female,  had  been  trained  in  like 
manner,  than  to  the  pallid  sons  of  pampered  cits,  the  dandies  of 
the  desk,  and  the  squalid  tenants  of  attics  and  factories.  It  was 
like  putting  the  club  of  Hercules  into  the  hands  of  a tailor, 
and  sending  slender  snip  to  combat  lions  in  the  Nemsean  forest 
— or  giving  the  bow  of  Ulysses  to  be  bent  by  the  flaccid  mus- 
cles of  the  effeminate  man -milliner.  This  ultra-gymnastic  en- 
thusiast did  some  injury  to  an  important  branch  of  hygiene,  by 
carrying  it  to  excess,  and  consequently  by  causing  its  desuetude. 
Every  salutary  measure  that  was  ever  proposed,  has  been  abused; 
but  this  forms  no  just  grounds  against  its  use . No  school  should 
be  without  a play-ground;  and  no  play-ground  without  a gym- 
nasium of  some  kind,  for  the  lighter  modes  of  athletic  exercise. 
The  swinging-apparatus,  at  the  Military  Asylum,  in  Chelsea, 
seems  well  calculated  for  effecting  that  combination  of  active 
and  passive  exercise,  so  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  human  frame 
in  the  present  state  of  civilization  and  refinement.  We  have 
more  mind  and  less  muscle  than  the  Lacedaemonians  ; and, 
therefore,  art  must  accomplish  what  strength  fails  to  do.  It  is 
in  a more  advanced  period  of  life,  that  exercise  is  to  be 


E 


26 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


preferred  to  active;  in  the  second  Septenniad,  the  latter  should 
have  the  preponderance.  In  all  gymnastic  exercises,  however, 
great  regard  should  be  paid  to  the  constitutions  of  individuals. 
There  are  some  youths,  where  a disposition  to  affections  of  the 
heart  and  great  vessels  prevails ; and  to  these  all  strong  exercise 
is  injurious.  Those,  also,  who  are  predisposed  to  pulmonary 
complaints,  must  be  cautious  of  athletic  exercise.  The  profes- 
sional attendant  of  the  family  or  school  should  examine  into 
this  point. 

On  the  subject  of  dietetic  fare  during  the  scholastic  Septen- 
niad, little  need  be  said.  It  should  be  simple  and  substantial, 
rather  than  abstemious.  The  fabric  that  is  daily  building  up, 
should  have  an  ample  supply  of  sound  materials.  These  mate- 
rials might,  with  advantage,  be  more  varied  in  kind  than  they 
are  in  most  seminaries  of  education.  Although  game  seldom 
smokes  on  the  table  of  a boarding-school,  yet  “toujocjrs  per- 
drix”  is  an  established  canon  of  the  kitchen. 

In  respect  to  the  beverage  of  youth,  during  the  first  and  se- 
cond Septenniads,  a great  error  has  been  committed  by  modern 
mothers,  in  substituting  for  the  salutary  prescription  of  Pindar 
(u  water  is  best”)  the  daily  glass  of  wine,  with  cake  or  condi- 
ment, for  the  smiling  progeny  round  the  table  after  dinner. 
The  juvenile  heart  dances  joyously  enough  to  the  music  of  the 
animal  spirits — and  the  rosy  current  of  the  circulation  runs  its 
merry  rounds  sufficiently  rapid,  without  impetus  from  wine. 
The  practice  in  question  is  reprehensible  on  more  accounts  than 
one.  It  early  establishes  the  habit  of  pampering  the  appetite — 
a habit  that  leads  to  countless  ills  in  after-life.  It  over-stimu- 
lates  the  organs  of  digestion,  at  a period  when  their  nerves  are 
supersensitive — their  excitabilities  exuberant — and  their  sym- 
pathies most  active  and  multiplied.  If  such  be  the  case  in 
youth,  can  we  wonder  at  the  universality  of  dyspeptic  com- 
plaints in  middle-age  ? It  is  to  be  remarked,  that  this  practice 
is  less  prevalent  among  the  highest  ranks  of  life,  than  among 
the  various  subordinate  grades.  It  increases  as  wre  descend,  till 
we  shudder  at  the  sight  of  liquid  fire,  exhibited  to  the  sickly 


FOOD  AND  BEVERAGE. 


27 


infant  in  the  sordid  hovel ! On  such  a subject  need  I say  more? 
or  could  I say  less  ? Bad  habits  are  early  enough  learnt — they 
ought  never  to  be  taught ! 

In  the  second  Septenniad,  the  schoolmaster  should  pursue  the 
path  which  the  parent  had  trodden  ; and  enforce,  with  the  ut- 
most rigour,  a system  of  order,  regularity,  and  punctuality,  in 
every  thing  which  the  pupil  does.  It  is  in  this  epoch,  as  in  the 
previous  one,  that  the  passions  of  youth  should  be  controlled — 
even  by  punishments,  if  necessary.  If  the  Boy  is  taught,  in 
early  life,  to  respect  the  feelings,  the  comforts,  and  the  happi- 
ness of  his  playmates  and  schoolfellows,  the  Man  will  after- 
wards obey  the  laws  of  God  and  his  country  in  society  at  large. 
The  tyranny  which  the  strong  often  exercise  over  the  weak  in 
schools,  and  the  annoyances  which  the  vicious  occasion  to  the 
well-disposed  youth,  ought  to  be  punished  with  ten  times  more 
severity  than  neglect  of  study.  The  degrading  and  barbarous 
system  of  “ fagging,”  so  long  prevalent  in  the  Westminster 
and  other  schools,  would  disgrace  a horde  of  Hottentots,  or  a 
colony  of  Siberians.  It  is  a system  which  often  breaks  the 
spirit,  and  even  the  health,  of  many  a generous  mind ; while  it 
fosters  those  innate  propensities  to  selfishness,  arrogance,  and 
cruelty,  which  require  the  rein  rather  than  the  spur  at  every 
period  of  life.  It  is  to  be  apprehended  that  the  fear  of  offend- 
ing parents,  and  other  motives  not  the  most  disinterested,  have 
prevented  the  expulsion  from  some  private  schools  of  turbulent 
spirits,  or  the  correction  of  their  vicious  habits. 

Vice  is  a contagion  of  the  most  terrible  virulence.  It  spreads 
with  the  rapidity  of  lightning — and  every  tainted  individual  be- 
comes a new  focus,  both  for  the  concentration  and  the  diffusion 
of  the  poison  ! It  is  a melancholy  truth,  that,  in  exact  pro- 
portion as  human  beings  (whether  men,  women,  or  children) 
become  congregated  together,  there  will  evil  be  engendered, 
propagated,  and  multiplied.  This  remark  applies  of  course,  to 
domiciliary  associations,  and  from  which  the  congregations  in 
the  Senate,  the  Church,  and  the  Forum  are  excepted.  It  is  pe- 
culiarly applicable  to  seminaries  of  education,  of  every  kind ; 


28 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


and  it  is  perhaps,  fortunate  that  society  at  large  is  not  aware  of 
the  number,  the  species,  and  the  magnitude  of  ills  inflicted  on 
mankind  by  the  Lancastrian  system  of  education — a system 
invented  and  practised  many  a century  before  Lancaster  was 
born.  But,  although  the  honest  Quaker  must  relinquish  all 
title  to  originality  on  this  point,  he  may  fairly  claim  the  supe- 
rior merit  of  improvement . Pupils,  in  all  ages,  were  in  the  ha- 
bit of  teaching  each  other — mischief  : — Lancaster  caused  them 
to  teach  each  other — knowledge.  This  last  is  “ mutual  in- 
struction”— the  former  is  “ mutual  c/estruction.”  But  the  new 
system  did  not  supersede  the  old  ; it  was  only  superadded  to  it. 
It  is,  therefore,  the  bounden  duty,  as  it  should  be  the  paramount 
object,  of  all  parents,  guardians,  and  tutors,  to  circumscribe  as 
much  as  possible  this  “ evil  communication,”  jvhich  not  only 
“ corrupts  good  manners,”  but,  perchance,  good  morals  into  the 
bargain  ! 

Having  thus  offered  some  remarks  on  the  manner  of  education, 
as  connected  with  health,  or  at  least  with  happiness,  I doubt 
wdiether  I am  justified  in  touching  on  the  matter  of  education 
itself.  My  reflections  shall  be  brief,  and,  if  not  founded  in  ob- 
servation and  in  reason,  they  will  fall  to  the  ground. 

The  two  grand  or  cardinal  objects  of  education,  in  my  hum- 
ble opinion,  are,  first , to  curb  the  evil  propensities  of  our  na- 
ture, by  increasing  our  knowledge  or  wisdom — and,  secondly , 
to  make  us  useful  to  society.  That  learning  or  knowledge  does 
elevate  the  mind,  humanize  the  heart,  and  prevent  barbarism  of 
manners,  we  have  the  best  authority  of  antiquity — “ emollit 
mores  nec  sinit  esse  feros.”  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  these 
effects  flow,  more  or  less,  from  all  kinds  of  learning  or  know- 
ledge 5 they  are,  however,  the  more  especial  results  of  what  may 
be  termed,  in  a comprehensive  sense,  classical  learning — or 
the  study  of  great  authors,  modern  as  well  as  ancient.  But,  to 
obtain  the  second  grand  object  of  education — to  become  useful 
members  of  society,  we  must  acquire  knowledge  of  a very  dif- 
ferent kind — namely,  science.  It  will  not  be  sufficient  to  study 
philosophy,  rhetoric,  poetry,  belles-lettres,  &c. — we  must  learn 


OBJECTS  AND  ENDS  OF  EDUCATION. 


29 


the  exact  and  the  inexact  sciences — the  nature  of  things.  A 
good  education,  then,  is  a happy  combination,  or  a just  pro- 
portion of  learning  and  knowledge — or,  in  other  words,  of  li- 
terature and  science.  The  proportions  must  vary,  no  doubt,  ac- 
cording to  the  destination  of  the  individual.  The  military  cadet 
should  not  spend  too  much  of  his  time  on  Greek  and  Latin. 
All  that  Homer  has  told  us  respecting  the  siege  of  Troy,  would 
avail  very  little  in  the  siege  of  Gibraltar  or  Malta.  Even  the 
eloquent  and  very  useful  art  of  running  away,  transmitted  to  us 
by  Xenophon  and  the  ten  thousand  Greeks,  would  have  been  of 
little  use  to  Moore  or  Moreau,  in  the  mountains  of  Spain  or 
the  forests  of  Germany.  So,  again,  the  various  voyages  of 
Ulysses,  between  the  Scamander  and  the  Tyber — from  the  re- 
sounding Hellespont  to  the  Pillars  of  Hercules,  would  be  next 
to  useless  on  the  chart  of  a modern  Mediterranean  cruiser.  This 
reasoning  might  be  pushed  to  any  lengths  ; but  it  is  not  neces- 
sary. It  appears  to  me  that,  among  the  upper,  and  even  the 
middle  classes  of  society,  learning  is  cultivated  somewhat  at  the 
expense  of  science — words  are  studied  more  than  things — and 
the  ornamental  is  preferred  to  the  useful. 

If  a man  were  cast  in  the  antediluvian  mould,  and  could  cal- 
culate on  numbering  six  or  seven  hundred  years,  instead  of  sixty 
or  seventy,  he  might,  advantageously  enough,  dedicate  ten  or 
fifteen  years  to  the  study  of  the  dead  languages,  in  order  that 
he  might  dig,  for  centuries  afterwards,  in  the  rich  and  inex- 
haustible mines  of  literature,  philosophy,  rhetoric,  and  poetry, 
to  which  these  languages  open  the  door.  But  I venture  to  doubt 
the  policy  of  employing  one-tenth,  or  more,  of  our  short  span 
of  existence  in  the  acquirement  of  two  dead  languages,  which 
we  are  forced  to  abandon  almost  immediately  after  they  are 
learnt,  and  before  we  can  do  much  more  than  view,  at  a dis- 
tance, the  fruits  which  they  display. 

Suppose  a young  and  adventurous  traveller  from  Otaheite 
(intending  to  explore  the  great  continental  world)  lands  at  Can- 
ton, and  there  finds  that  the  u Celestial  Empire”  compre- 
hends the  whole  of  this  globe,  with  the  exception  of  a few  islets. 


so 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


like  his  own,  scattered  around  its  almost  boundless  shores.* 
The  language  of  the  Celestials  being  wholly  unknown  to  him, 
it  requires  seven  years  to  acquire  it,  even  imperfectly.  He  then 
sets  out  on  his  travels  ; and,  having  crossed  a great  wall,  and 
wandered  over  many  mountains  and  deserts,  he  comes  to  an- 
other great  country,  whose  language  is  totally  different  from 
that  which  he  took  such  time  and  pains  to  study.  He  has  no 
alternative,  but  to  assign  another  seven  years  to  the  tongue  of 
the  white  bear.  At  the  conclusion  of  this  period,  he  finds  let- 
ters of  recal  to  his  native  Isle,  and  goes  back  with  his  head  full 
of  two  languages,  neither  of  which  enables  him  to  roast  a pig  or 
a prisoner  better  than  his  countrymen,  who  understand  no  other 
language  but  their  own.  Now,  without  meaning  to  compare 
Greek  and  Latin  with  Chinese  and  Russian,  I may  safely  aver, 
that  the  languages  of  Homer  and  Horace  are  of  very  little  more 
use,  to  three-fourths  of  those  into  whose  brains  they  are  ham- 
mered, than  the  language  of  the  Hindoo  or  Hun  would  be  to 
the  native  of  Owyhee  or  Otaheite.  To  the  multitude,  indeed, 
the  dead  languages  are  very  nearly  a dead  loss — and  for  this 
good  reason,  that  their  avocations  and  pursuits,  through  life, 
prevent  them  from  unlocking  the  magazines  of  learning,  to  which 
those  languages  are  merely  the  keys.  Common  sense  is  begin- 
ning to  impress  mankind  with  this  truth.  Even  among  the 
members  of  the  learned  and  liberal  professions,  the  time  spent 
on  the  classics  is  too  great,  while  that  dedicated  to  the  exact 
and  inexact  sciences  is  by  far  too  short.  The  light  of  reason 
has  actually  penetrated  the  dark  monastic  cloisters  of  Westmin- 
ster, and  forced  the  sages  of  antiquity  to  associate  on  the  same 
bench  with  the  sons  of  modern  science  ! 

As  the  world  grows  older — as  population  multiplies — as  com- 
petition becomes  more  intense — and  as  the  difficulties  of  sub- 
sisting increase,  time  will  be  more  and  more  valuable.  It  is, 
therefore,  probable  (though  perhaps  to  be  deplored)  that  the 


* This  is  the  geographical  doctrine  of  the  Chinese,  and  laid  down  as  such 
on  their  charts. 


LITERATURE  AND  SCIENCE. 


31 


aera  is  not  far  distant,  when  the  study  of  dead  languages  and 
ancient  literature  will,  in  a great  measure,  give  way  to  that  of 
living  tongues  and  modern  discoveries. 

A curious  problem  might  here  be  more  easily  started  than 
solved,  viz.  what  are  the  differences,  as  respects  the  individual, 
between  the  study  of  an  original  author,  and  a good  translation? 
Suppose  we  take  the  Iliad  of  Homer,  and  Pope’s  free  transla- 
tion of  it.  Would  the  operations  of  the  intellect,  the  elevation 
of  sentiment,  the  excitement  of  the  feelings,  and  the  exercise  of 
the  imagination,  be  materially  different  in  the  study  of  the  one, 
from  that  which  would  take  place  in  the  study  of  the  other  ? 
I very  much  doubt  whether  the  results  would  be  greatly  dis- 
similar. If  this  be  the  case,  the  study  of  the  dead  languages  is 
of  little  use  to  the  great  mass  of  mankind.  They  are  necessary, 
at  present,  to  those  who  are  destined  for  law,  divinity,  the  se- 
nate, and  medicine.  Those  also  who  have  nothing  to  do,  may 
probably  as  well  expend  seven  or  ten  years  on  Greek  and  Latin, 
as  on  any  thing  else.  To  authorship,  too,  now  become  so  very 
extensive  a business,  the  dead  languages  are  essential ; though 
I question  whether  they  conduce  much  to  originality  of  thought. 
How  did  Homer  and  the  great  men  of  antiquity  get  on,  seeing 
that  they  could  not  all  have  had  the  dead  languages  for  models 
of  study  ? 

I shall  hardly  be  accused  of  a gothic  or  barbarian  insensibility 
to  the  beauties  and  benefits  of  classic  lore.  My  prejudices 
run  in  a very  different  direction.  But  common  sense,  and  some 
observation  of  what  is  going  forwards  in  the  world,  convince  me 
that  a day  is  rapidly  approaching,  when  the  necessary  details 
of  modern  science  will  very  much  supersede  the  elegant  pur- 
suits of  ancient  literature.* 

Some  of  the  remarks  on  the  education  of  male  youth  will 


* Probably  the  chief  advantage  of  learning  the  dead  languages  consists  in 
the  exercise  of  the  mind  during  the  acquisition  of  them.  The  intellectual 
powers  are,  unquestionably,  very  much  strengthened  and  improved  by  this 
process  ; but  still  we  are  to  ask  the  question,  might  not  exercise  of  the  mind, 
in  the  acquisition  of  modern  science  and  living  languages,  be  more  beneficial 


32 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


bear,  mutatis  mutandis , on  that  of  the  female  ; but  others 
will  not.  It  cannot  be  said  that  too  much  of  their  time  is  dedi- 
cated to  the  Greek  and  Latin  Classics.  They  are  much  fonder 
of  living  tongues  than  of  dead  languages.  The  education  of 
females  is  either  domestic,  or  at  the  boarding-school.  The 
former  is,  by  far,  the  best.  Notwithstanding  the  pains  which 
are  taken  by  the  superintendants  of  respectable  seminaries,  evils 
attach  to  congregations  of  young  females,  which  no  care  can 
entirely  prevent.  Female  education  is  indeed  more  detrimental 
to  health  and  happiness  than  that  of  the  male.  Its  grasp,  its 
aim,  is  at  accomplishments  rather  than  acquirements — at  gild- 
ing rather  than  at  gold — at  such  ornaments  as  may  dazzle  by 
their  lustre,  and  consume  themselves,  in  a few  years,  by  the 
intensity  of  their  own  brightness,  rather  than  those  which 
radiate  a steady  light  till  the  lamp  of  life  is  extinguished.  They 
are  most  properly  termed  accomplishments ; because  they  are 
designed  to  accomplish  a certain  object — matrimony.  That 
end,  or  rather  beginning,  obtained,  they  are  about  as  useful  to 
their  owner,  as  a rudder  is  to  a sheer  hulk,  moored  head  and 
stern  in  Portsmouth  harbour — the  lease  of  a house  after  the 
term  has  expired — or  a pair  of  wooden  shoes  during  a paroxysm 
of  gout. 

The  mania  for  music  injures  the  health,  and  even  curtails 
the  life  of  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands,  annually,  of  the  fair 
sex,  by  the  sedentary  habits  which  it  enjoins,  and  the  morbid 
sympathies  which  it  engenders.  The  story  of  the  Syrens  is  no 
fable.  It  is  verified  to  the  letter  ! 

“ Their  song  is  death,  and  makes  destruction  please.  ** 

Visit  the  ball-room  and  the  bazaar,  the  park  and  the  concert, 
the  theatre  and  the  temple  : — among  the  myriads  of  young  and 


to  those  who  are  not  destined  for  the  learned  professions  ? Even  in  the  Se- 
nate and  at  the  Bar,  how  extremely  useful  is  a knowledge  of  modern  science 
— and  in  the  various  departments  of  private  life  and  private  avocations,  how 
much  more  important  this  knowledge  than  that  of  Greek  and  Latin  ! ! — 2nd 
Edition. 


MUSIC. 


33 


beautiful,  whom  you  see  dancing  or  dressing,  driving  or  chant- 
ing, laughing  or  praying — you  will  hardly  find  one  in  the  en- 
joyment of  health  ! No  wonder,  then,  that  the  doctors,  the 
dentists,  and  the  druggists,  multiply  almost  as  rapidly  as  the 
pianos,  the  harps,  and  the  guitars  ! 

The  length  of  time  occupied  by  music  renders  it  morally 
impossible  to  dedicate  sufficient  attention  to  the  health  of  the 
body  or  the  cultivation  of  the  mind.  The  consequence  is,  that 
the  corporeal  functions  languish  and  become  impaired, — a con- 
dition which  is  fearfully  augmented  by  the  peculiar  effect  which 
music  has  upon  the  nervous  system.  It  will  not  be  denied  that 
every  profession,  avocation,  or  pursuit,  modifies,  in  some  degree, 
the  moral  and  physical  temperament  of  the  individual.  No  art 
or  science  that  ever  was  invented  by  human  ingenuity  exerts  so 
powerful  an  influence  on  mind  and  body  as  music.  It  is  the 
galvanic  fluid  of  harmony,  which  vibrates  on  the  ear — electrifies 
the  soul — and  thrills  through  every  nerve  in  the  body.  Is  it 
probable  that  so  potent  an  excitant  can  be  daily  applied,  for 
many  hours,  to  the  sensitive  system  of  female  youth,  without 
producing  extraordinary  effects  ? It  is  impossible.  If  music 
have  the  power  (and  Shakespeare  is  our  authority) 

“ To  soften  rocks  and  bend  the  knotted  oak,” 

is  it  not  likely  to  inflame  the  imagination  and  disorder  the 
nerves  ? All  pungent  stimuli  produce  inordinate  excitement, 
followed,  in  the  end,  by  a train  of  evils  inducing  debility  and 
irritability.  Every  thing  that  merely  delights  the  senses , with- 
out improving  the  understandings  must  come  under  the  head  of 
sensual  gratifications,  which  tend,  by  their  very  nature,  to  ex- 
cess. Music,  like  wine,  exhilarates,  in  small  quantities,  but 
intoxicates  in  large.  The  indulgence  of  either,  beyond  the 
limits  of  moderation,  is  deleterious. 

It  is  fortunate',  however,  that,  on  the  majority  of  young  fe- 
males, chained  to  the  piano,  like  the  galley-slave  to  the  oar,  the 
vibrations  of  music  fall  inert,  and  the  u concord  of  sweet  sounds” 
flows  from  their  tongues  and  their  fingers  as  mechanically  as 

F 


34 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH . 


from  the  rotations  of  the  liurdigurdy,  or  the  wires  of  the  musical 
snuff-box.  They  only  lose  their  time,  and  a certain  portion  of 
health,  from  want  of  exercise.  They  form  the  aristocracy  of 
the  “factory  girls/’  who  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  get 
their  “ten  hours’  bill”  reduced  to  six.  But  there  is  a consi- 
derable portion  of  young  females  whose  organization  is  more 
delicate,  and  whose  susceptibilities  are  more  acute.  To  these, 
the  present  inordinate  study  and  practice  of  music  (for  it  is  in- 
ordinate) is  injurious  in  various  ways,  by  deranging  a variety  of 
functions.  The  nature  and  extent  of  these  injuries  are  not 
generally  known,  and  cannot  be  detailed  here.  But  one  effect, 
of  immense  importance,  will  not  be  denied — namely,  the  length 
of  time  absorbed  in  music,  and  the  consequent  deficiency  of 
time  for  the  acquisition  of  useful  knowledge,  in  the  system  of 
female  education.  If  some  of  that  time  which  is  spent  on  the 
piano,  the  harp,  and  the  guitar,  were  dedicated  to  the  elements 
of  science — or,  at  all  events,  of  useful  information,  as  modern 
languages,  history,  astronomy,  geography,  and  even  mathe- 
matics, there  would  be  better  wives  and  mothers,  than  where 
the  mind  is  left,  comparatively,  an  uncultivated  blank,  in  order  to 
pamper  the  single  sense  of  hearing  ! Mrs.  Somerville  has  stolen 
harmony  from  Heaven  as  well  as  St.  Cecilia  ! The  subject  is 
so  important  that,  at  the  risk  of  tautology,  I must  take  it  up 
again  in  the  third  Septenniad,  where  the  evil  is  even  greater 
than  in  the  second.* 


* It  will  probably  be  objected  that  I have  despatched  the  first  fourteen 
years  of  life  much  too  briefly.  My  object,  however,  is  not  to  work  out  mi- 
nute details  that  are  often  useless,  or,  at  least,  unnecessary — but  to  esta- 
blish ‘principles.  When  these  last 'are  understood,  every  one  may  modify 
them  and  apply  them  to  his  own  case  without  difficulty. 


DANGERS  OF  THE  THIRD  SEPTENNIAD. 


35 


THIRD  SEPTENNIAD. 

[14  to  21  years .] 

The  stream  of  human  life,  during  the  third  Septenniad,  under- 
goes no  trifling  variations  in  its  course,  its  volume,  and  its 
velocity.  This  epoch  is  among  the  most  important  of  the  ten. 
The  plebeian  youth  exchanges  the  school-master  for  the  task- 
master— the  homely  hearth  for  the  toilsome  workshop — the 
parental  indulgence  for  the  tedious  apprenticeship  ! A grade 
higher  in  the  scale  of  society,  and  we  see  the  stripling  youth 
leave  the  seminary,  for  the  counting-house,  the  warehouse,  or 
some  of  the  thousand  sedentary  avocations,  in  which,  from  five 
to  seven  years  of  the  very  spring-tide  of  existence  are  consumed 
by  the  laws  of  civilization  and  commerce,  in  a species  of  servi- 
tude ! Higher  still,  and  the  scene  shifts  from  the  academy  to 
the  university — the  one  apparently  a continuation  of  the  other 
— both  having  the  same  object  in  view,  the  acquisition  of  know- 
ledge— but  the  transition  often  involving  a great  revolution  in 
the  end. 

The  Third  Septenniad  is  indeed  the  spring  of  life.  In  it 
the  seeds  of  good  or  of  evil,  of  virtue  or  vice,  of  science  or 
ignorance,  are  sown.  In  it  the  physical  functions  act  with 
boundless  energy — the  human  frame  expanding  and  taking  on 
its  form  and  dimensions ; while  the  mental  powers  display,  in 
the  great  majority  of  instances,  their  characteristic  features, 
capacities,  and  propensities.  It  is  in  this  stage  of  rapid  deve- 
lopment, intellectual  and  corporeal,  that  the  greatest  difficulty 
exists  is  preserving  th e physique  within  the  boundaries  of  health, 
and  confining  the  morale  within  the  limits  of  virtue.  How 
many  minds  are  wrecked — how  many  constitutions  ruined, 
during  the  third  Septenniad  ! ! The  extent  of  the  mischief — 
even  of  the  moral  evil,  is  less  known  to  the  priest  than  to  the 
physician.  At  so  early  a period  of  life,  when  passions  so  much 
predominate  over  principles,  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  the 


36 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


force  of  precept  can  be  so  efficient  a preventive  as  the  fear  of 
bodily  suffering.  If  the  youth  of  both  sexes  could  see  through 
the  vista  of  future  years,  and  there  behold  the  catalogue  of 
afflictions  and  sufferings  inseparable  attendants  on  time  and 
humanity,  they  would  pause,  ere  they  added  to  the  number,  by 
originating  maladies  at  a period  when  Nature  is  endeavouring 
to  fortify  the  material  fabric  against  the  influence  of  those  that 
must  necessarily  assail  us,  in  the  progress  of  life  ! Yet  it  is 
in  this  very  epoch,  that  some  of  the  most  deadly  seeds  of  vice 
and  disease  are  implanted  in  our  spiritual  and  corporeal  consti- 
tutions— seeds  which,  not  merely  ce  grow  with  our  growth,  and 
strengthen  with  our  strength,”  but  acquire  vigour  from  our 
weakness,  and  obtain  victory  in  our  decay.  This  melancholy 
reflection  is  applicable  to  all  classes  and  both  sexes.  The  ple- 
beian is  not  secured  from  the  evil  by  poverty — nor  the  patrician 
by  wealth.  Neither  are  the  middle  classes  protected  by  the 
golden  mean,  in  which  they  are  supposed  to  be  placed.  Civi- 
lization has  decreed — and  society  has  sanctioned  the  fiat — that 
youth,  during  the  third  Septenniad,  shall  experience  much  more 
tribulation  of  mind  and  affliction  of  body,  than  was  designed  for 
it  by  Nature  or  Nature’s  god.  The  sedentary  and  insalutary 
avocations  to  which  young  people,  of  both  sexes,  in  the  mid- 
dling and  lower  classes  of  society  are  confined,  between  the  ages 
of  14  and  21,  occasion  dreadful  havoc  in  health,  and  no  small 
deterioration  of  morals.  The  drudgery,  the  scanty  cloathing, 
the  bad  food,  and  the  exposure  to  the  elements,  of  the  most  in- 
digent classes,  are  scarcely  more  injurious  to  health  and  life, 
than  the  sedentary  habits,  the  impure  air,  and  the  depressing 
passions  of  the  various  species  of  artisans,  mechanics,  and  shop- 
keepers, in  the  classes  immediately  above  them.  The  infinite 
variety  of  new  avocations,  among  these  grades,  has  given  rise 
to  a corresponding  infinity  of  physical  and  moral  maladies,  of 
which  our  forefathers  were  ignorant,  and  for  which  it  requires 
much  ingenuity,  at  present,  to  invent  significant  names.  The 
incalculable  numbers  of  young  females  confined  to  sedentary 
avocations,  from  morning  till  night — and,  too  often,  from  night 


DANGERS  OF  THE  THIRD  SEPTENNIAD.  3J 

till  morning — become  not  only  unhealthy  themselves,  but  after- 
wards consign  debility  and  disease  to  their  unfortunate  offspring. 
It  is  thus  that  infirmities  of  body  and  mind  are  acquired,  mul- 
tiplied, transmitted  from  parent  to  progeny,  and,  consequently, 
perpetuated  in  society.  The  fashionable  world — 

“ The  gay  licentious  proud. 

Whom  pleasure,  power,  and  affluence  surround” — 

know  not  how  many  thousand  females  are  annually  sacrificed, 
during  each  season  in  this  metropolis,  by  the  sudden  demand 
and  forced  supply  of  modish  ornaments  and  ephemeral  habili- 
ments ! They  know  not  that,  while  they  conscientiously  be- 
lieve they  are  patronising  trade  and  rewarding  industry,  they 
are  actually  depriving  many  thousand  young  women  of  sleep, 
air,  and  exercise ; — consigning  them  to  close  recesses  and 
crowded  attics,  where  the  stimulus  of  tea,  coffee,  and  liqueurs 
is  rendered  necessary  to  support  the  corporeal  fabric — and, 
where  the  congregation  of  juvenile  females,  under  such  circum- 
stances, conduces  to  any  thing  rather  than  vigour  of  constitu- 
tion or  morality  of  sentiment ! The  secrets  of  the  prison- 
house  come  out  more  frequently  on  the  bed  of  sickness  than  on 
the  bed  of  death.  They  fall  more  under  the  cognizance  of  the 
physician  than  of  the  divine.  When  the  curtain  is  falling  on 
the  last  scene,  the  fair  penitent  and  the  hoary  offender  have 
neither  time  nor  power  to  recall  or  relate  the  dark  incidents 
of  the  drama  now  closing  for  ever  ! It  is  during  the  bustle  of 
life,  when  health  is  in  jeopardy,  and  pains  and  penalties  are  in 
die  course  of  infliction,  that  the  causes  of  human  ills,  and  the 
consequences  of  human  frailties,  moral  and  physical,  are  re- 
vealed with  a candour  unlikely  to  obtain  under  any  other  cir- 
cumstances. The  disclosures  are  as  safe  in  the  bosom  of  the 
physician  as  of  the  priest ; and,  for  very  obvious  reasons,  they 
are  more  frequently  revealed,  in  this  country  at  least,  for  the 
recovery  of  health,  than  for  a passport  to  Heaven.*  Let  not 


* What  says  Hannah  More  ? “ I used  to  wonder  why  people  should  be 

so  fond  of  the  company  of  their  physician,  till  I recollected  that  he  is  the 


38 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


the  parson  be  jealous  of  the  doctor  in  this  case.  The  services 
of  the  latter  are  nearly  as  soon  forgotten  by  the  patient,  after 
emerging  into  society,  as  those  of  the  former  are,  when  he 
“ shuffles  off  this  mortal  coil,”  and  passes  the  waters  of  obli- 
vion. But  this  is  by  the  way. 

Large  as  is  the  class  to  which  I have  been  alluding,  it  is  as  a 
drop  of  water  in  the  ocean,  compared  with  the  myriads  of  youth, 
male  and  female,  pent  up  in  the  foul  atmospheres  of  our  count- 
less factories,  inhaling  alike  the  moral  and  physical  poison  that 
corrupts  the  mind  while  it  enervates  the  body ! Is  it  improbable 
that  the  individual  deterioration  thus  extensively  diffused  among 
the  lower  orders  of  the  community,  should,  in  process  of  time, 
affect  a considerable  mass  of  society  at  large  ? I think  it  is 
far  from  improbable  that,  some  ten  or  twelve  centuries  hence, 
when  Australia  shall  have  become  a powerful  nation — Asia 
be  governed  by  limited  monarchs  of  native  birth — the  Antilles 
a swarm  of  independent  republics,  of  all  hues,  between  jet 
black  and  white — when  America  shall  exhibit  a long  series  of 
disunited  states,  stretching  from  Terra  del  Fuego  to  the  barren 
coast  of  Labrador — when  British  dominion  shall  not  extend  be- 
yond the  British  Isles,  if  so  far — then,  probably,  some  contem- 
plative philosopher  may  stand  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  as 
Gibbon  stood  on  the  tower  of  the  Capitol,  musing  and  medi- 
tating on  the  “ decline  and  fall”  of  a great  empire,  and  on  the 
degeneracy  of  a people,  whose  arms,  arts,  and  commerce  had 


only  person  with  whom  one  dares  (to)  talk  continually  of  oneself,  without 
interruption,  contradiction,  or  censure.”  This  is  true,  so  far  as  it  goes. 
But  it  falls  infinitely  short  of  the  mark.  The  individual  does  not  talk  of 
himself  or  herself  from  pure  egotism,  which  is  vanity  ; but,  from  the  uni- 
versal impulse  of  human  and  animal  nature — self-preservation.  If  it 
were  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  oneself  talk,  would  man  and  woman  disclose 
their  sins,  their  foibles,  or  their  mistakes  ? No,  verily  ! They  do  so,  most 
wisely,  in  order  that  the  physician  may  have  a clear  knowledge  of  the  causes 
of  their  maladies,  and,  consequently,  a better  chance  of  removing  them.  In 
this  point,  at  least,  wisdom  predominates  over  vanity.  It  is  honorable  to  the 
medical  profession,  that  hardly  an  instance  is  on  record  where  any  other  ad- 
vantage is  taken  of  free  confession  than  the  benefit  of  the  confessor. 


DEGENERATION  OF  CONSTITUTION. 


39 


long  been  the  theme  of  universal  admiration  and  envy ! I know 
not  why  Britain  can  expect  to  escape  the  fate  of  Greece,  of 
Rome,  and  of  all  the  great  nations  of  antiquity.  Youth,  man- 
hood,  decrepitude,  and  decay,  are  the  destiny  of  kingdoms  as 
well  as  of  individuals.  The  body  politic  is  subject  to  the  same 
phases,  revolutions,  disorders,  and  decay  as  the  human  body. 
And  although  there  may  be,  and  I believe  there  is,  something 
in  the  climate,  soil,  genius,  and  race  of  Britons  that  will  offer  a 
most  obstinate  and  protracted  resistance  to  the  inevitable  causes 
of  national  deterioration,  yet  he  must  be  blind,  indeed,  who  does 
not  perceive  the  onward  working  of  these  causes  in  our  own 
days.  Nations  are  only  aggregations  of  individuals — and  what- 
ever be  the  influence,  whether  good  or  evil,  that  operates  on  a 
considerable  number  of  the  population,  that  influence  will  radiate 
from  ten  thousand  centres,  and  diffuse  its  effects,  sooner  or 
later,  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  community.  There  is  no 
special  boundary,  in  this  country,  between  the  different  classes 
of  society,  that  can  limit  the  sphere  of  moral  or  physical  evil. 

The  same  contemplative  philosopher,  when  surveying  the 
stunted  beings  composing  the  mass  of  a degenerated  manufac- 
turing population,  will  be  likely  to  exclaim — 

“ ’Twas  not  the  sires  of  such  as  these. 

That  dared  the  elements  and  pathless  seas — 

That  made  proud  Asian  monarchs  feel 

How  weak  their  gold  was  against  Europe’s  steel ; — 

But  beings  of  another  mould — 

Rough,  hardy,  vigorous,  manly,  bold.” 

In  viewing  the  ascending  links  of  society,  there  is  no  great 
cause  for  gratulation.  The  youth,  of  both  sexes,  doomed  to 
the  counter,  the  desk,  the  nursery,  and  the  school-room,  are 
little  elevated,  in  point  of  salubrity,  above  their  humbler  con- 
temporaries ! They  have  higher  notions,  but  not  stronger 
health — more  ambition  to  rise,  but  not  better  means  of  exalta- 
tion— their  passions  are  stronger,  but  the  power  of  gratifying 
them  is  not  more  extended — in  fine,  the  thirst  of  enjoyment  is 
augmented,  while  the  supply  is  diminished. 

We  raise  our  views  still  higher  along  the  numerous  links  and 


v 

40  ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 

classes  of  society- — and  what  do  we  behold  ? — The  professions, 
learned  and  scientific.  It  is  in  the  course  of  the  third  Sep- 
tenniad  that  the  destiny  of  youth,  for  these  professions,  is 
fixed.  For  the  senate — for  the  pulpit — for  the  bar — for  physic 
— for  various  pursuits  and  avocations — and,  in  many  instances, 
for  no  pursuits,  except  the  enjoyment  of  wealth  in  private  life, 
how  many  thousands  of  our  youths  are  annually  ushered  into 
the  academic  bowers  and  halls  of  our  universities  ? In  these, 
there  is  nothing  necessarily  or  essentially  inimical  to  body  or 
mind ; but  the  congregation  of  multitudes  together,  and  some- 
times the  studies  themselves,  do  produce  a host  of  evils,  moral 
and  physical. 

To  Oxford  and  Cambridge  many  repair,  to  learn — little  more 
than  how  to  drink  Port-wine  : — many  others  to  study  classics 
and  mathematics,  for  obtaining  their  degrees — a smaller  band 
to  enter  the  arena  of  competition,  and  engage  in  the  fierce  con- 
flict for  honours — honours  too  frequently  purchased  at  the  ex- 
pense of  health  ! How  often  is  the  laurel  converted  into  the 
cypress,  to  wave  over  the  tomb  of  talent — or  over  the  living 
wreck  of  mind  and  body  ! How  often  is  the  ship  foundered, 
on  this  her  first  voyage,  by  carrying  a press  of  sail  that  strained, 
bent,  and  sprung  those  masts,  yards,  and  stays  which  would 
have  carried  the  vessel,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  through 
the  various  storms  of  life  ! To  those  who  are  not  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  intimate  connexion  between  mind  and  matter, 
in  this  state  of  our  existence,  the  almost  mechanical  influences 
to  which  the  immaterial  principle  is  subject,  may  appear  incre- 
dible— and  somewhat  humiliating.  Thus,  the  intellect  may  be, 
and  every  day  is,  stretched  like  a ligament  or  muscle,  till  it 
snaps,  or  loses  its  elasticity  and  contractility,  and,  for  a time  at 
least,  becomes  incapable  of  its  ordinary  functions.  The  human 
mind  is  exhausted  by  protracted  thinking,  in  the  same  manner 
as  the  human  body  is  exhausted  by  long-continued  labour ; but 
it  is  not  so  easily  recruited  by  rest — still  less  by  cordials.* 


It  would,  doubtless,  be  more  correct  to  say  that  the  organ  of  the  mind. 


OVER-EXERTION  OF  THE  MIND. 


41 


The  powers  of  the  mind,  especially  during  the  third  Septen- 
niad  of  life,  are  still  more  expansive  and  elastic  than  those  of 
the  body ; and  the  possessor  of  talent  conceives  that  there  is 
scarcely  any  limit  to  the  safe  exercise  of  that  gift — till  he  feels' 
the  baneful  influence  of  intellectual  exertion  on  the  earthy  ta- 
bernacle of  the  soul.  Even  then,  he  considers  (perhaps  justly) 
the  exhaustion  or  inability  to  proceed,  as  the  infirmity  of  the 
grosser  and  more  perishable  companion  of  the  mind,  and  only 
waits  the  recruit  of  body  before  he  again  spurs  the  spirit  to  fresh 
exertions  ! Is  it  likely  that  these,  almost  supernatural,  efforts 
can  be  innocuous  ? No  indeed  ! I have  so  often  seen  them 
exemplified,  that  I cannot  too  urgently  warn  the  student,  who 
strives  for  academic  honours,  to  economise  his  intellectual 
powers,  with  the  view  of  preserving  them,  in  the  same  manner 
that  he  would  guard  his  bodily  health  by  avoiding  intemper- 
ance. These  observations  are  not  directed  to  the  drones,  but  to 
the  wranglers  of  our  Universities — and  not  to  those  only  who 
wrangle  within  the  walls  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  but  to  the 
tens  of  thousands  of  wranglers  who  experience  the  wear  and 
tear  of  mind  throughout  society  at  large  ! 

Nature,  though  often  liberal,  is  seldom  lavish  of  her  personal 
gifts  to  mankind — or  even  to  womankind.  It  is  rare  to  see  high 
cultivation  of  the  mind  conjoined  with  rude  health  and  athletic 
strength.  They  may  co-exist — because  there  is  no  rule  without 
its  exceptions — but  it  is  in  cases  where  inordinate  talent  has 
been  bestowed  ; and,  consequently,  where  great  mental  acquire- 
ments have  been  made  with  little  labour.  Nature  is  generally 
a niggard  in  this  respect.  Rarely  does  she  permit  the  highest 
cultivation  of  the  mind,  and  the  most  complete  development  of 
the  body,  in  the  same  individual.  Examples  to  the  contrary 
may  exist — I have  never  seen  one. 

Now,  as  it  is  in  the  third  Septenniad  that  Nature  labours 


rather  than  the  mind  itself,  is  thus  affected.  But  I have  here  made  use  of  com- 
mon parlance,  and  will  explain  myself  very  fully  on  this  point  in  a more  ad- 
vanced stage  of  the  volume. 


42 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


most  strenuously  to  build  the  arch,  preparatory  to  fixing  the 
key-stone  of  the  constitution,  is  it  not  reasonable  to  believe, 
that  the  great  and  frequent  interruptions  which  she  experiences 
in  her  work,  by  the  contentions  of  the  spirit,  in  civilized  life, 
must  often  cause  the  arch  to  be  imperfect,  and  the  key-stone 
insecure  ? In  our  universities,  two  channels  are  open  to  dis- 
tinction— through  classics  and  mathematics  ; or,  in  other  words, 
through  the  paths  of  literature  and  science.  The  former  is 
most  ornamental — the  latter  most  useful.  The  one  expands  the 
imagination,  the  other  fortifies  the  judgment.  A moderate 
combination  of  the  two  would  appear  to  be  preferable  to  a high 
proficiency  in  any  one  of  the  branches.  The  universities  are 
of  a different  opinion.  Instead  of  placing  the  laurel  crown  on 
the  head  of  him  only  who  combines  the  greatest  quantum  of 
classical  lore  with  the  largest  amount  of  mathematical  science, 
they  award  the  prize  to  him  who  mounts  highest  on  the  scale  of 
one  branch,  to  the  almost  total  neglect  of  the  other  !*  Nothing 
can  be  more  injudicious  than  this  plan  of  stimulating  talent 
and  rewarding  industry.  An  equal  cultivation  of  the  two  de- 
partments of  human  acquirements  would  be  more  beneficial  to 
the  individual — more  easy  of  accomplishment — and  less  injuri- 
ous to  health.  Change  or  variety  of  study  is  like  change  or 
variety  of  posture,  exercise,  food,  or  amusement.  It  is  a relief 
or  relaxation,  rather  than  a prolongation  of  the  preceding  task. 
Classical  literature  refreshes  the  intellect,  and  gives  wings  to 
the  fancy,  after  the  dry  problems  and  rigorous  demonstrations 
of  geometry : — the  latter , in  turn,  corrects  the  wanderings  of 
the  imagination  among  the  fairy  and  fictitious  scenes  of  poetry 
and  mythology — brings  back  our  thoughts  to  the  sober  truths 
of  exact  science — and  disciplines  the  mind  by  the  exercise  of 
the  judgment.  I can  see  no  good  reason  why  the  tentamen,  or 
examination,  should  not  always  include  both  branches  of  know- 


* The  circumstance  of  the  “ double  first,”  at  Oxford  and  Cambridge, 
can  hardly  be  said  to  invalidate  this  position. 


T H E M A STER- PASSIONS. 


43 


ledge.  He  has,  however,  the  option  of  “ going  out”  in  one  or 
other,  according  to  his  fancy.* 

It  is  in  the  third  Septenniad  that  some  of  the  passions, 
and  many  of  the  propensities,  dawn  forth,  and  even  take  root. 
Previous  to  that  period,  when  the  appetites  for  food,  drink,  pas- 
times, exercise,  and  sight-seeings  are  gratified,  the  youth  falls 
into  profound  repose,  to  awake  with  renovated  vigour,  for  run- 
ning the  same  round  of  enjoyments  as  before.  But,  in  the 
third  Septenniad,  a stranger  appears  upon  the  stage — and 
soon  assumes  the  leading  character  in  the  dramatis  personae — a 
character  which  he  often  sustains  till  the  ninth,  or  even  the 
tenth  Septenniad.  I need  hardly  say  that  this  passion  is  love. 
It  precedes  and  overrules  the  other  master-passions — as  ambi- 
tion, avarice,  &c.  which,  at  this  early  period  of  life,  are  repre- 
sented by  substitutes  (emulation  and  economy),  rather  than  ac- 
tual occupants  of  the  human  microcosm.  These  three  grand 
passions — love,  ambition,  and  avarice — are  at  all  times  an- 
tagonizing powers.  Love  is  first  in  the  field — and  generally 
the  first  to  quit  the  arena  of  contention.  Ambition  is  the  se- 
cond in  action,  and  the  second  to  relinquish  the  struggle.  Ava- 
rice is  the  youngest,  that  is,  the  latest-born,  and  generally  sur- 
vives the  other  two.f 

It  seldom  happens  that  these  three  dominant  passions  are 
long  co-existent  and  co-equal.  One  usually  acquires  the  as- 
cendancy over  the  others,  and  reduces  them  to  subjection.  It 


* A week  seldom  passes  in  which  I do  not  see  illustrations  of  the  havoc 
made  in  the  minds  and  bodies  of  wranglers  at  our  universities.  The  tree  of 
knowledge  is  forced.  The  flowers  and  the  fruit  are  called  into  precocious 
existence.  The  consequence  is  that  the  sap  is  exhausted,  and  the  branches 
themselves,  instead  of  annual  fructification  afterwards,  present  only  dwarfish 
fruit,  unsightly  to  the  eye,  and  unsavoury  to  the  taste  ! Such  is  too  often 
the  final  reward  of  successful,  as  well  as  unsuccessful  competition  for  acade- 
mic honours  ! The  elated  youth  proudly  exhibits  his  brow  encircled  with  the 
laurel  crown.  He  sleeps,  and  dreams  of  literary  fame.  He  wakes  and  finds 
the  laurel  converted  into  a wreath  of  cypress  ! 

f In  courts,  the  passion  of  ambition  will  often  antagonize  and  conquer 
avarice,  in  the  last  years  of  protracted  existence. 


44 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


not  unfrequently  happens,  indeed,  that  this  one  annihilates  its 
contemporaries,  or  holds  them  in  complete  abeyance  ! There 
is  little  danger,  however,  of  love  being  in  a minority  during 
the  third,  or  even  the  fourth  Septenniad.  Avarice,  the  final 
conqueror,  is  rarely  born  till  after  these  periods — and  ambition 
has  little  chance  with  the  quiver-bearing  deity.  Cupid  is  re- 
presented by  the  ancients  as  a winged  infant,  amusing  himself 
with  catching  butterflies,  trundling  a hoop,  or  playing  with  a 
nymph.  These  representations  are  not  inappropriate  to  the 
character  of  love,  in  the  third  Septenniad.  It  is  then  guileless, 
innocent,  ardent,  and  devoted  ! Would  that  it  always  main- 
tained this  character  ! But,  alas  ! like  every  thing  in  this  world, 
love  itself  changes  with  time,  and  assumes  such  a different  as- 
pect and  temperament,  that  the  poets  were  forced  to  imagine 
two  Cupids — one  heaven-born — the  other,  the  offspring  of  Nox 
and  Erebus — distinguished  for  riot,  debauchery,  falsehood,  and 
inconstancy  ! Instead  of  the  bundle  of  golden  arrows,  designed 
to  pierce,  but  not  wound,  the  susceptible  heart,  we  too  often 
see  the  sable  quiver  charged  with  darts  and  daggers,  dipped  in 
poisons  more  potent  than  the  Upas,  and  destined  to  scatter 
sickness  and  sorrow  through  every  ramification  of  society — poi- 
sons, both  moral  and  physical,  unknown  to  Greek  or  Roman, 
whether  philosopher,  satirist,  or  physician  ; but  fearfully  cal- 
culated to  taint  the  springs  of  life,  and  involve  the  innocent  and 
guilty  in  one  common  ruin  !*  An  admonition  from  the  experi- 
enced physician  frequently  makes  a deeper  impression  on  the 
mind  of  headstrong  youth,  in  this  respect,  than  a sermon  from 
the  priest  (a  truth  which  I have  often  had  occasion  to  ve- 
rify)— and,  therefore,  I shall  not  deem  it  irrelevant  to  strew 
a moral  lesson  occasionally  in  the  path,  while  descending  along 
the  current  of  human  life.  The  close  of  the  third  Septenniad 


* Juvenal  and  Perseus  have  given  us  a long  black  catalogue  of  the  evils 
springing  from  the  “ son  of  Nox  and  Erebus  but  a modern  censor,  ac- 
quainted with  the  “ ills  to  which  flesh  is  heir/’  in  our  own  days,  from  the 
son  of  Jupiter  and  Venus,  could  add  a frightful  appendix! 


LOVE modern  female  accomplishments.  45 

is  a critical  and  dangerous  period  of  youth.  It  is  not  against 
“ self-love/’  as  the  poet  has  it,  that  the  reasoning  powers  are 
to  be  arrayed  : — They  have  then — 

“ Passion  to  urge,  and  Reason  to  restrain.” 

The  latter  is  often  a weak  antagonist  to  the  former  at  this  early 
period  ! From  the  quivered  son  of  Jupiter  they  have  little  to 
fear  ; but  oh  ! let  them  beware  of  that  other  deity,  sprung  from 
Nox  and  Erebus  ! 

Woman,  designated  the  weaker  sex,  “ comes  of  age”  while 
man  is  a minor.  In  consequence  of  this  earlier  maturity  than 
the  lord  of  the  creation,  she  does  not  pass  the  third  Skpten- 
niad  unscathed  by  the  God  of  Love.  She  suffers  more  ills  from 
this  cause  than  the  world  is  aware  of.  The  state  of  civilization 
at  which  we  have  arrived  produces  such  a wide  range  of  <e  hopes 
deferred,”  and  expectations  blighted,  that  their  effects  are  de- 
tected by  the  experienced  eye  at  every  step,  even  in  the  streets. 
The  exquisite  portrait  of  erotic  sickness,  drawn  by  Shakespeare, 
is  only  one  out  of  five  hundred  forms  which  the  malady  assumes, 
under  the  observance  of  the  physician.  It  was,  however,  well 
adapted  for  the  descriptive  pen  of  the  poet. 

she  never  told  her  love. 

But  let  concealment,  like  a worm  i’  th'  bud. 

Feed  on  her  damask  cheek.  She  pined  in  thought. 

And,  with  a green  and  yellow  melancholy. 

She  sate  like  Patience  on  a monument. 

Smiling  at  grief! 

But  Shakespeare  knew  not  a tithe  of  the  numerous  links  in  that 
extensive  chain  of  morbid  sympathies  and  associations,  that 
extends  from  erotomania,  down  to  the  most  transient  emotion 
of  female  sensibility  ! It  is  unquestionable  that  the  difficulties 
of  settling  females  of  the  higher  classes,  in  life,  multiply  every 
year — in  other  words,  the  checks  to  matrimony  become  more 
numerous,  and  the  doom  to  celibacy  more  widely  spread.  This 
may  or  may  not  be  an  evil  in  itself ; but  it  assuredly  is  the 
source  of  many  evils.  The  modern  maxim,  as  respects  females, 
is — “ get  married  ivell,  if  you  can — but  get  married.”  The 


46 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


prize  being  matrimony,  and  the  competition  constantly  aug- 
menting in  intensity,  the  means  must  be  adapted  to  the  end. 
These  are  light,  shewy,  and  attractive  accomplishments,  among 
which  music,  dancing,  drawing,  and  decorating,  are  the  most 
essential.  They  are  the  nets,  spread  out  to  entangle  lovers  and 
catch  husbands — where  a hook  cannot  be  baited  with  a heavy 
purse.  The  marriage  state,  and  the  state  of  celibacy  (one  or 
other  of  which  must  be  the  lot  of  every  female),  are  left  unpro- 
vided for  by  this  system  of  education  or  training  ! In  matri- 
mony, the  attractions  above-mentioned,  having  obtained  their 
object,  are  little  calculated  to  support  the  new  character  of  wife 
or  mother,  or  aid  the  new  duties  that  devolve  on  the  change  of 
condition  : — hence  a prolific  source  of  unhappy  contracts  in 
wedlock  ! In  celibacy,  on  the  other  hand,  the  superficial  ac- 
quirements, having  failed  in  their  object,  become  useless — or 
indeed  extinct,  after  a certain — or  we  will  admit,  an  uncertain 
period ; and  the  female  is  left  a double  prey — to  the  tortures  of 
disappointment,  and  the  moth  of  ennui — without  internal  re- 
source, or  external  sympathy  ! Let  parents  ponder  on  these 
observations,  and  ask  themselves  whether  or  not  they  are  true. 
The  female  youth  are  absolved  from  blame.  They  have  neither 
the  choice  nor  the  direction  of  their  studies.  They  are  doomed 
as  rigorously,  and  almost  as  many  hours  daily,  to  the  piano- 
forte, as  the  galley-slave  is  to  the  oar  ! A slight  analysis  of 
this  tedious  apprenticeship,  in  which  half  the  circle  of  science 
might  be  learnt,  may  not  be  a useless  procedure. 

During  several  hours  of  the  day,  and  many  years  of  life,  the 
female  mind  is  employed  in  deciphering  series  after  series  of 
hieroglyphics,  ranged  in  horizontal  columns,  and  resembling  a 
mimic  procession  of  little  black,  dancing  sprites  or  gnomes, 
with  large  heads,  long  legs,  and  no  bodies.  They  are  types  or 
symbols  of  sound  and  motion,  conveying  no  intellectual  idea. 
This  science  addresses  itself  solely  to  the  senses.  It  leaves  no 
knowledge  of  good  or  evil  behind — and  no  impression  on  the 
sensorium,  but  the  natural  effects  of  pleasurable  or  doleful  sen- 
sations. The  stimulus  of  music  is  of  a very  subtle  and  diffusible 


PHYSICAL  AND  MORAL  EFFECTS  OF  MUSIC  IN  KXCBSS.  47 

nature,  and  the  excitement  which  it  produces  in  the  nervous 
system  is  of  a peculiar  character,  by  no  means  generally  under- 
stood. That  it  is  a potent  agent,  is  evident,  from  the  excitation 
which  it  induces  in  man  the  most  uncivilized,  and  even  in  ani- 
mals the  most  savage.  No  one  would  think  of  referring  to 
poets  for  facts  in  physiology ; but  where  the  feelings  and  pas- 
sions of  mankind  are  in  question,  they  often  afford  the  most  apt 
illustrations.  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Dryden,  and  Pope,  furnish 
innumerable  examples.  The  astonishing  influence  of  music  on 
animals,  and  (as  was  supposed)  on  even  inanimate  nature,  ena- 
bled the  ancient  poets  to  construct  fables  and  fictitious  events  : 
— for  instance,  the  descent  of  Orpheus  to  the  infernal  regions, 
and  the  release  of  Eurydice  from  the  grasp  of  Pluto,  by  means 
of  music.  In  Alexander’s  feast  (though  a fiction),  Dryden  has 
illustrated  the  powers  of  music.  If  varied  strains  could  agitate 
the  breast  of  a soldier  and  a hero,  with  sentiments  of  love, 
glory,  ambition,  sorrow,  &c.  is  it  unreasonable  to  suppose  that 
the  same  agent  is  capable  of  exercising  a powerful  influence  over 
the  sensitive  soul  of  a young  female  ? It  is  not  unreasonable — 
it  is  a fact.  Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  any  organ  or 
sense  that  is  much  exercised,  will  become,  for  a time,  propor- 
tionally augmented  in  sensibility — it  will  become,  as  the  French 
would  say,  more  “ impressionable .”  The  seaman’s  eye,  accus- 
tomed to  the  telescope,  will  perceive  objects  at  a greater  distance 
than  the  landsman’s.  The  musician’s  ear  becomes  acutely  sen- 
sitive to  sounds — delighted  with  harmony,  and  horrified  by  dis- 
cord. The  palate  of  the  gourmand  will  distinguish  dishes  and 
wines  which  the  plain  eater  could  not  discriminate.  The  “ tea- 
taster”  at  Canton,  sets  the  Hong  merchant’s  arts  of  adulterat- 
ing the  plant  at  defiance.  The  blind  man’s  sense  of  touch 
becomes  pre-eminently  acute — not  by  a transference  of  power 
(as  is  absurdly  supposed)  from  the  eye  to  the  finger;  but  by 
greater  exercise  of  the  nerves  of  touch,  and  minuter  attention 
to  the  impressions  received  through  that  channel.  The  muscles 
become  stronger  by  daily  exertion,  as  is  seen  in  the  arm  of  the 
blacksmith  and  legs  of  the  porter.  The  olfactory  nerves  ac- 


48 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


quire  immense  acuteness  by  the  habit  of  smelling  different 
substances,  and  estimating  them  by  their  odour.  In  short,  the 
rule  is  almost  without  exceptions.  But  is  there  no  reverse  to 
the  medal  ? Every  organ  or  sense,  thus  inordinately  exercised 
and  improved,  becomes,  sooner  than  usual,  impaired  in  its  own 
function,  or  it  deranges  the  functions  of  other  organs,  senses — 
or  perhaps  the  whole  constitution.  This  is  the  lot  of  humanity. 
There  is  no  good  without  alloy — no  near  cut  to  perfection, 
without  its  attendant  tax  or  drawback.  Thus  we  frequently 
find  the  signal-officer  of  a fleet,  with  diminished  or  lost  vision 
of  the  right  eye,  from  overstraining  it  by  the  telescope — or 
affected  with  head-aches  and  other  symptoms  from  the  same 
cause.*  The  tea-taster  of  Canton  soon  becomes  dyspeptic, 
sallow,  and  superannuated.  The  fate  of  the  gourmand  and 
bacchanal  is  well  known.  In  short,  examples  of  this  kind 
might  be  adduced  without  end.  And  can  the  devotee  of  music 
expect  to  escape  unhurt  ? Musicians,  generally  speaking,  are 
melancholic.  Excited  themselves,  and  exciting  others,  their 
nerves  are  ultimately  unstrung  by  perpetual  vibration  ; and  the 
natural,  the  inevitable  consequence  is,  depression  of  spirits, 
often  approaching  to  hypochondriacism.  If  such  be  the  fact, 
(and  it  is  unquestionable,)  what  must  be  the  case  of  the  young 
female,  whose  sensitive  nerves,  susceptible  feelings,  exquisite 
sympathies,  tender  affections,  and  delicate  organization,  are 
excited,  stimulated,  electrified,  almost  constantly  by  music  for 
several  years  in  succession  ? The  results  are  read  by  the  ob- 
servant physician  in  the  countenance,  the  complexion,  the  gait 
— the  whole  physical  and  moral  constitution  of  the  female — 
results  which  require  a new  vocabulary,  and  would  be  totally 


* It  is  not  a little  curious  that,  if  we  fix  the  eye  on  any  one  particular  part 
of  an  object,  say  a feature  in  a painting — and  keep  it  so  fixed,  for  a certain 
time,  the  contemplated  point  gradually  becomes  obscured,  and  is  ultimately 
invisible,  though  surrounding  objects  may  be  still  depicted  in  the  eye.  This 
is  caused  by  an  exhaustion  of  the  visual  powers  of  the  retina,  at  the  point  so 
strained,  and  is  relieved  by  directing  the  eye  to  other  objects,  till  the  excitability 
is  recruited. 


MUSIC. 


49* 


unintelligible  by  Celsus,  or  even  by  Sydenham,  could  they 
rise  from  their  graves,  to  survey  the  progress  and  effects  of 
civilization  ! 

These,  however,  are  not  the  legitimate  consequences  of  music  ; 
but  of  the  abuse  of  music.  This  “ concord  of  sweet  sounds,”  if 
used  in  moderation,  would  be  one  of  the  blessings  of  human  life, 
and  was,  no  doubt,  designed  as  such,  by  the  all-wise  Creator. 
So  was  food,  wine,  every  gratification  of  the  palate,  bodily  and 
mental.  But  one  enjoyment  or  luxury  was  never  designed  to 
usurp  the  place  of  several  others.  Who  would  think  of  living 
entirely  on  honey  and  champagne  ? She  who  spends  four  or 
five  hours  daily  in  the  study  and  practice  of  music,  acts  with 
equal  impropriety.  The  extra  time  thus  spent  is  injuriously 
abstracted  from  other  improvements  and  exercises  of  mind  and 
body.  The  time  spent  at  the  piano  leaves  not  sufficient  space 
for  the  acquirement  of  that  “ useful  knowledge”  which  strength- 
ens  the  mind  against  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  and  the  moral 
crosses  to  which  female  life  is  doomed — nor  for  healthful  exer- 
cise of  the  body,  by  which  the  material  fabric  may  be  fortified 
against  the  thousand  causes  of  disease  continually  assailing  it. 
I would  therefore  recommend  that  one  half  of  the  time  spent  in 
music,  should  be  allotted  to  bodily  exercise,  and  to  the  acqui- 
sition of  useful  and  ornamental  knowledge,  embracing  history, 
natural  and  moral  philosophy,  geography,  astronomy — and,  in 
short,  many  of  the  sciences  which  man  has  monopolized  to 
himself,  but  for  which  woman  is  as  fit  as  i(  the  lord  of  the 
creation.”* 

Woman  comes  earlier  to  maturity,  by  two  years  at  least,  than 
man.  The  tree  of  life  blossoms  and  bears  fruit  sooner  in  the 
one  sex  than  in  the  other — it  also  sooner  withers  and  sheds  its 
leaves — but  does  not  sooner  die.  Female  life,  at  any  period. 


* These  strictures  on  the  abuse  of  music  are  not  meant  to  reflect  on  the 
mother  or  the  daughter,  but  on  the  mania  of  the  times  in  which  we  live. 
The  accomplishment  of  music  is  patent  to  all — the  evils  and  disorders 
resulting  from  the  excessive  study  and  practice  are  known  only  to  a few 
besides  the  actual  sufferers ! — 2nd  Ed. 


II 


50 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


cseteris  paribus,  is  fully  as  good — perhaps  a little  better,  in  res- 
pect to  probable  duration,  than  that  of  the  male.  In  this  point 
of  view,  woman  has  a longer  senectitude  than  man.  More 
men  are  annually  born  than  women — and,  consequently,  more 
must  die.  It  is  in  the  course  of  the  third  Septenniad,  that 
the  seeds  of  female  diseases  are  chiefly  sewn — or,  at  least,  that 
the  soil  is  specially  prepared  for  their  reception  and  growth. 
The  predisposition  to  infirmities  and  disorders,  of  various  kinds, 
is  effected  by  acts  of  omission  and  commission.  In  the  first 
class,  need  I mention  the  deficiency  of  healthy  exercise  of  the 
body,  in  the  open  air ; and  of  intellectual  exercise  in  judicious 
studies  ? We  are  told  by  mothers  that,  in  towns  and  cities,  it 
is  impossible  for  young  females  to  take  bodily  exercise.  Where 
there  is  the  will,  there  will  generally  be  found  the  means. 
Even  within  the  precincts  of  home,  the  hoop  and  the  skip-rope 
might  usefully  supersede  the  harp  and  guitar,  for  one  hour  in 
the  day.  In  schools  and  seminaries,  there  is  no  excuse — and 
indeed  in  many  of  them,  this  salutary  point  of  hygiene  is  well 
attended  to.  Gymnastic  exercises  have  been  hastily  thrown 
aside — partly,  because  some  enthusiasts  carried  them  to  excess 
— partly,  because  they  were  supposed  to  be  inimical  to  the 
effeminacy  of  shape  and  feature,  so  much  prized  by  parent  and 
progeny — but  chiefly,  I suspect,  from  that  languor  and  disin- 
clination to  exertion,  which  characterize  the  higher  and  even 
the  middle  classes  of  female  youth.  This  deficiency  of  exercise 
in  the  open  air  may  be  considered  as  the  parent  of  one-half  of 
female  disorders,  by  multiplying  and  augmenting  the  suscep- 
tibilities to  all  external  impressions.  The  pallid  complexions, 
the  languid  movements,  the  torpid  secretions,  the  flaccid  mus- 
cles, and  disordered  functions,  (including  glandular  swellings,) 
and  consumption  itself,  attest  the  truth  of  this  assertion  ! 

Insufficient  exercise  is  greatly  aided  by  scantiness  of  cloathing. 
Among  the  poor,  this  evil  is  a misfortune,  rather  than  a fault — 
among  the  rich,  it  is  a fault,  as  wrell  as  a misfortune.  The  de- 
licate female,  trained  like  a hot-house  plant,  and  who  has  lived 
in  a band-box  or  a boudoir  during  the  rest  of  the  week,  issues 


tlGUT-LAClNG — MALE  AND  F ISM  ALE.  51 

forth  to  the  ball-room,  the  opera,  or  the  theatre,  in  a gossamer 
dress  that  might  suit  the  skies  of  the  Sandwich  Isles  or  Bengal, 
but  not  the  humid  atmosphere  of  Winter  and  Spring  in  England. 
The  consequences  are  serious ; but  the  manner  in  which  they 
are  brought  about,  is  far  from  being  generally  understood.  It 
is  not  by  the  mantle,  the  furs,  and  the  close  carriage,  that  the 
injurious  effects  of  light  cloathing — or  rather  no  cloathing,  are 
to  be  obviated.  A little  inquiry  into  this  subject  will  be  found 
of  the  greatest  interest — especially  as  it  bears  on  acts  of  commis- 
sion as  well  as  of  omission — on  tight  cloathing  as  well  as  on 
light  cloathing. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state  that  the  vital  function  of  res- 
piration can  only  be  carried  on  by  the  alternate  expansion  and 
compression  of  the  lungs.  This  apparatus  cannot  be  filled  with 
atmospheric  air,  except  by  the  elevation  of  the  ribs,  or  the  des- 
cent of  the  diaphragm.  In  health,  and  in  a state  of  nature, 
both  these  mechanical  processes  are  employed,  and  then  the  in- 
dividual derives  all  the  advantages  which  free  breathing  can 
impart  to  the  whole  economy  of  the  constitution.  In  certain 
diseases,  respiration  can  only  be  performed  by  one  of  these 
processes — but  then  it  is  carried  on  imperfectly,  and  labori- 
ously. Thus  when  ribs  are  fractured,  the  chest  must  be  secured 
from  motion  by  bandages,  and  breathing  is  performed  by  the 
descent  and  ascent  of  the  diaphragm.  But  how  is  it,  when  both 
these  mechanical  processes  are  crippled  at  the  same  time  ? 
Thus,  in  fashionable  female  attire  (and  often  in  male  attire  also) 
the  abdomen  is  so  compressed  by  the  stays,  that  the  diaphragm 
can  only  descend  in  the  slightest  degree — if  at  all — while  the 
whole  of  the  middle  and  lower  part  of  the  chest  is  so  firmly 
girt  by  the  same  cincture,  that  the  ribs  there  are  kept  motion- 
less ! The  vital  function  of  respiration,  then,  is  carried  on  by 
violent,  though  inefficient  efforts  of  the  diaphragm  to  descend, 
and  by  an  excessive  action  of  the  muscles,  and  extraordinary 
elevation  of  the  ribs  in  the  upper  part  of  the  chest,  where  it  is 
free  from  the  pressure  of  the  stays.  Now  in  this  state  of  things, 
three  distinct  injuries  are  sustained,  or  injurious  operations  car- 
ried on.  First , the  too  great  pressure  of  the  diaphragm  on  the 


52 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


stomach  and  upper  bowels,  by  its  violent  efforts  to  descend 
secondly , the  inaction  of  the  lower  lobes  of  the  lungs,  from 
want  of  space  for  expansion— -and  thirdly , the  inordinate  dila- 
tation of  the  upper  portions  of  the  lungs,  where  the  ribs  are 
free,  in  order  to  compensate  for  the  compressed  state  of  the 
lower  portions.  All  these  injurious  effects  are  greatly  increased 
by  muscular  exertion — as  by  dancing,  singing,  &c.,  when  the 
circulation  is  hurried,  yet  impeded  ; and  where  demands  are 
made  on  respiration,  which  the  lungs  are  incapable  of  supply- 
ing. It  is  at  those  times,  that  we  see  the  upper  part  of  the 
chest  heaving,  with  almost  convulsive  throes,  and  the  counte- 
nance flushed  by  the  impediments  thrown  in  the  way  of  the 
blood’s  return  to  the  heart. 

It  is  not  a little  remarkable  that,  in  nine-tenths  of  those  who 
die  of  consumption  in  this  country,  (a  disease  that  produces 
nearly  a fourth  of  the  whole  mortality,)  we  find  the  upper  lobes 
of  the  lungs,  corresponding  with  those  parts  of  the  chest  that 
are  most  exposed  to  the  atmosphere,  least  compressed  by  cloath- 
ing,  and  more  than  usually  strained  in  breathing,  are  the  seat 
of  excavations,  commonly  termed  ulcerations,  while  the  lower 
lobes  of  the  lungs  are  generally  found  to  be  more  or  less  con- 
solidated, and  comparatively  impervious  to  air.  This  state  of 
things  is  too  remarkable,  and  too  uniform,  to  be  the  effect  of 
chance ; and  therefore  we  are  authorized  to  conclude  that  it  is, 
partly  at  least,  owing  to  the  exposure  of  the  upper  parts  of  the 
chest  to  atmospheric  transitions,  with  slight  covering,  both  in 
males  and  females,  while  the  upper  lobes  of  the  lungs  are  vio- 
lently strained,  and  the  air-cells  torn  during  inordinate  exertion. 
The  consolidated  condition  of  the  inferior  lobes  of  the  organ  of 
respiration  corresponds  in  a most  singular  manner,  with  the 
constrained  position  and  impeded  function  of  these  parts  during 
life,  from  the  causes  which  I have  already  described. 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  the  tight-lacing  of  the  lower  part 
of  the  chest,  and  the  thin  cloathing  of  the  upper  part,  are  not 
confined  to  sex,  to  age,  nor  to  class  of  society ; but  extend, 
more  or  less,  to  all,  though  more,  certainly,  to  females  than  to 
males — and  to  the  higher  than  to  the  lower  orders  of  the  com- 


TIGHT- LAC  1 NG MALE  AND  FEMALE. 


53 


munity.  A long,  an  attentive,  and  a mature  consideration  of 
this  subject,  has  led  me  to  draw  the  conclusion  which  is  suffi- 
ciently obvious  in  the  foregoing  statement,  and  which  I leave  to 
others  for  confirmation  or  rejection. 

These  are  not  the  only  evils  resulting  from  the  unnatural 
constriction  of  the  middle  of  the  body  by  tight-lacing — male 
and  female.*  The  stomach  and  bowels  are  so  compressed,  that 
it  is  wonderful  how  they  are  able  to  perform  their  important 
functions  at  all ! But  although  the  resources  of  Nature  are 
almost  inexhaustible  in  overcoming  obstacles,  yet,  the  injurious 
effects  of  the  habit  alluded  to,  are  numerous  and  potent  enough 
to  swell,  very  materially,  the  long  catalogue  of  nervous  and 
dyspeptic  complaints.  The  growth  of  the  whole  body  and  the 
freedom  of  all  its  functions  so  much  depend  on  perfect  diges- 
tion of  our  food,  and  conversion  of  our  nutriment  into  healthy 
blood,  that  any  impediment  to  that  digestion  and  that  assimila- 
tion, must  inevitably  derange  the  whole  constitution.  Although 
the  evil  of  tight-lacing  is  as  patent  as  the  sun  at  noon-day  in 
an  Italian  sky,  yet  I have  never  known  its  commission  to  be 
acknowledged  by  any  fair  dame  or  exquisite  dandy.  It  seems 
to  be  considered  essential  to  the  existence,  or  rather  to  the  pro- 
duction of  a fine  figure ; and  yet  I never  could  discover  any 
marks  of  stays  in  the  statues  of  the  Medicean  Venus  or  the 
Belvidere  Apollo.  Whether  the  modern  girdle  possesses  any 
of  the  attractive  and  fascinating  qualities  attributed  to  the 
CiESTUS  of  Venus,  I am  not  prepared  to  say;  but  I venture  to 
aver  that  the  Cyprian  goddess  was  not  in  the  habit  of  drawing 
her  zone  so  tight  as  the  modern  fair  ones,  else  the  sculptor 
would  have  recorded  the  cincture  in  Parian  marble.  We  have 
every  reason,  indeed,  to  believe  that  the  waist  of  Venus  was 


* Let  any  one  look  around  him  in  the  streets,  the  theatres,  the  ball-rooms, 
&c.  and  he  will  be  compelled  to  acknowledge  that  the  beaux  are  nearly  as 
tightly  girt  as  the  belles.  The  mania  pervades  the  dandy  creation  from  the 
Neva  to  the  Hellespont.  The  Hun  and  the  Croat  have  their  upper  regions 
more  nearly  severed  from  their  Netherlands,  than  even  the  Gaul  and  the 
Italian!  John  Bull  has  caught  the  frenzy,  though  his  well-stuffed  paunch 
makes  a desperate  resistance  to  the  girdlo-mania  of  the  continental  fop. 


54 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


left  as  free  from  compression  as  her  feet — and  I need  not  point 
out  the  contrast  between  these  extreme  features  in  the  statues 
of  the  ancient  belles  and  those  of  our  own  days  ! We  seem 
more  inclined  to  wear  the  Chinese  shoe  than  the  Grecian  sandal. 
We  have  no  right  to  dispute  about  tastes  ; but  I may  venture  to 
assert  that  the  comfort  and  motions  of  the  foot  are  not  more 
abridged  and  cramped  by  the  Chinese  shoe,  than  are  the  func- 
tions of  respiration  and  digestion  by  the  tight  stays.* 

There  is  one  other  evil,  of  commission,  that  I must  advert  to 
before  closing  this  section — the  commission  of  matrimony.  I 
fear  that  many  of  my  fair  young  readers  may  think  I have 
placed  this  evil  under  the  wrong  head,  and  that  it  ought  to  be 
considered  as  one  of  omission , rather  than  commission.  I am 
unable,  in  an  essay  of  this  kind,  to  state  my  reasons  for  post- 
poning matrimony  till  the  completion  of  the  third  Septenniad 
in  the  female,  and  of  the  fourth  Septenniad  in  the  male  sex. 
Yet  both  sexes  may  safely  take  it  for  granted  that  I have  good 
reasons  for  advancing  this  dogma — deduced  from  long  experi- 
ence and  extensive  observation.  To  the  male  youth  of  modern 
times  the  admonition  is  hardly  necessary,  since  they  are  growing 
amazingly  prudent  and  cautious  in  taking  this  important  step. 
They  seem  to  have  derived  immense  advantage  from  the  sage 
advice  given  to  young  Phaeton  by  his  father — 

" Parce  puer  stimulis,  et  fortius  utere  loris.” 

In  all  matrimonial  affairs,  they  require  the  spur  rather  than 
the  rein,  and  therefore  I may  take  leave  of  them  for  the  pre- 
sent, as  they  are  not  likely  to  violate  the  precept  I have  laid 
down. 

Not  so  the  young  ladies — or  rather  their  mothers.  But  I 
shall  only  offer  to  them  one  dissuasive  argument  against  too 
early  matrimony.  It  is  this  : — that,  for  every  month  spent  in 
the  marriage  state,  during  the  third  Septenniad,  a year  will 
be  deducted  from  the  usual  duration  of  their  beauty  and  per- 
sonal attractions  ! 


* See  the  ingenious  work  of  Mr.  Coulson  on  “ Deformities  of  the  Chest/’ 
and  the  extracts  from  it  in  the  Appendix  to  this  Edition. — 2nd  Ed. 


FOURTH  SEPTENNIAD. 

[21  to  2 $ years. 


Time  advances  with  steady  and  equal  pace,  neither  quickening 
his  steps  at  the  ardent  solicitation  of  youth,  nor  retarding  his 
course  at  the  unheeded  prayer  of  age  ! He  is  represented — 
but  improperly — with  a scythe,  mowing  down  all  things — 
ce  omnia  metit  tempus” — from  the  cloud-capt  pyramid,  whose 
head  is  shrouded  in  the  darkness  of  antiquity,  to  the  most 
ephemeral  flower  or  fly,  basking,  for  a day,  in  the  sunshine  of 
its  momentary  existence.  This  powerful  being — (far  less 
imaginary  than  the  Jupiter  of  the  Heathens) — is  falsely  re- 
presented, as  entirely  destructive ; whereas  he  is  more  than 
half  conservative.  He  ought  to  be  portrayed  as  a skeleton  on 
one  side,  with  the  scythe  in  his  left  hand — while  the  opposite 
side  is  cloathed  in  flesh  and  blood,  exhibiting  all  the  characte- 
ristics of  youth  and  maturity — his  right  hand  holding  a cornu- 
copia overflowing  with  seeds,  flowers,  and  fruits,  the  symbols 
of  perpetual  reproduction,  and  unlimited  fertility.  Time  should 
rest  on  a winged  globe,  the  emblem  of  eternal  revolution  and 
motion,  while  typical  of  that  which  has  neither  beginning  nor 
end.  From  his  right  hand  he  is  profusely  scattering  the  prin- 
ciples and  materials  of  regeneration  and  life: — with  his  left  hand, 
he  is  scathing,  consuming,  and  obliterating  every  thing  which 
he  had  previously  called  into  existence,  at  the  command  of  his 
superior  ! But  between  the  cornucopiae  and  the  scythe — between 
the  right  hand  and  the  left,  of  this  mysterious  agent,  there 
exists  a fair  and  ample  field,  for  ever  flourishing  in  perennial 
vigour.  The  afflux  of  supply  and  the  efflux  of  waste,  are  im- 
perceptible to  the  eye.  Parts  are  constantly  added,  and  parts 
are  constantly  subtracted  ; but  the  whole  remains  a whole. 
The  body  of  Nature  is  ever  changing,  but  never  changed. 
And,  as  to  the  human  race,  though  the  individual  dies,  the 
species  remains  immortal.  The  individual  constitution  ex- 


56 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


hibits,  for  a time,  this  remarkable  condition.  During  many 
years — say,  from  the  age  of  30  to  that  of  40 — every  particle 
that  is  taken  from  the  material  fabric,  is  simultaneously  re- 
placed by  another  particle  of  new  matter,  and  thus  the  living 
machine  is  secured  from  the  effects  of  wear  and  tear — till  the 
adjusting  balance  is  deranged,  and  the  supply  becomes  inade- 
quate to  the  waste. 

Time  does  not  roll  over  the  physical  or  material  world,  with- 
out leaving  his  impress  on  the  metaphysical  or  intellectual. 
The  track  of  his  wheels  is  left  in  a medium  much  rarer  than  the 
air  we  breathe — in  the  thoughts  and  imaginings  of  the  human 
mind  ! Proteus  never  presented  himself  in  half  so  many  forms 
as  Time  does  to  different  individuals — and  even  to  the  same 
individual  under  different  circumstances.  To  the  galley-slave, 
the  tenant  of  the  prison,  the  absent  lover,  the  victim  of  incu- 
rable tortures — and  to  the  countless  thousands,  whose  daily  lot 
is  reiterated  misery,  how  slowly  does  Time  appear  to  creep, 
and  how  unwelcome  is  his  presence  ? To  him,  whose  hours 
are  numbered,  whether  by  the  fiat  of  Nature  or  the  offended 
laws  of  his  country,  how  rapidly  do  the  fleeting  moments  pass  ! 
To  the  stranded  mariner,  suspended  over  the  raging  wave,  by  a 
slender  rope  and  exhausted  muscles,  while  the  life- boat  is 
struggling  through  the  breakers  to  his  aid,  how  precious  is 
each  moment ! For  one  half  hour  he  would  exchange  the  gems 
of  Golconda  ! To  the  victim  of  ennui,  without  object  or  pur- 
suit, how  lag  the  hours — how  slow  the  progress  of  the  sun 
through  the  firmament ! To  the  lawyer,  the  physician,  the  mer- 
chant— to  all  whose  time  is  their  fortune — how  quickly  does 
the  hand  move  round  the  dial — how  short  is  the  longest  Sum- 
mer’s sun  ! The  stream  of  Time,  in  its  approach  towards  us, 
always  seems  languid — when  past,  it  appears  like  a dream,  so 
rapid  has  been  its  flight.  In  exact  proportion  as  age  increases, 
Time  seems  to  glide  faster  over  our  heads. 

Time  is  occupied  not  merely  in  the  renovation  and  destruc- 
tion of  all  organized  beings  and  things — but  also  in  changing 
things  which  are  incapable  of  destruction  or  reproduction.  The 


TIME. 


57 

primeval  granite,  under  the  unfathomed  snows  of  Mont  Blanc,  is 
undergoing  changes — imperceptible  and  unknown — but  not  the 
less  real  on  that  account.  As  the  darkest  and  deepest  recesses 
of  the  earth,  into  which  man  has  penetrated,  shew  that  changes 
have  taken  place ; so,  no  man,  in  his  senses,  will  maintain  that 
other  changes  shall  not  succeed.  But,  notwithstanding  all  these 
reproductions  and  changes,  the  same  thing  is  never  reinstated 
in  existence , at  least  in  the  globe  we  inhabit.  The  same  human 
being  never  re-appears  on  the  stage  of  life — personal  identity 
once  destroyed  is  for  ever  lost — the  same  tree  never  springs  up 
a second  time  in  the  forest — the  same  wave  never  beats  a second 
time  on  the  sandy  shore — the  same  insect  never  revives,  after 
dissolution — not  even  the  same  drop  of  water  ever  falls  a second 
time  in  the  shower,  though  its  elements  may  run  the  same 
round  of  changes,  from  water  to  vapour,  and  from  vapour  to 
rain,  for  a million  of  years. 

Man,  then,  the  highest  grade  on  the  scale  of  created  beings,  is 
subject  ter*the  same  law  that  governs  the  eagle  over  his  head, 
and  the  worm — nay  the  dust,  beneath  his  feet.  He  cannot, 
therefore,  with  justice,  complain,  even  if  this  were  his  final  lot. 
He  has  capacities  for  enjoyment  and  pleasure,  beyond  those  of 
every  other  organized  being,  whether  of  the  vegetable  or  ani- 
mal world — and  if  his  intellectual  endowments  and  passions 
lead  him  into  pains  and  penalties  of  mind  and  body,  from  which 
his  inferiors  are  free,  still  he  cannot  reasonably  complain  of 
injustice.  He  has  no  right  to  claim  a majority  of  the  good, 
and  a minority  of  the  evils  allotted  to  created  beings  in  this 
sublunary  state.  These  reflections  on  time  may  appear  digres- 
sive ; but  they  are  not  unnatural,  for  we  are  now  approaching 
certain  epochs  of  life,  when  reflection  will  intrude  itself  on  the 
mind  of  man,  in  spite  of  the  turmoil  of  passions  and  excite- 
ments by  which  he  is  surrounded. 

To  the  slave  imprisoned  in  the  dark  Peruvian  mine — to  the 
shipwrecked  mariner  on  the  desolate  isle,  eyeing,  from  day  to 
day,  the  boundless  horizon,  in  search  of  a friendly  sail — the 

1 


58 


ECONOMY  OK  HEALTH, 


wheels  of  Time  do  not  appear  to  revolve  more  slowly  than  they 
do  to  the  minor  approaching  his  majority  at  the  close  of  the 
third  Septenniad.  The  happy  morn  at  last  arrives  that  stamps 
the  minor  a man — that  liberates  him  from  the  control  of  parent 
or  guardian — that  mftkes  him  his  own  master- — too  often  the 
slave  of  his  own  passions,  or  the  victim  of  his  designing  syco- 
phants ! On  this,  as  upon  many  other  eventful  periods  of  our 
lives,  the  greatest  apparent  good  frequently  turns  out  to  be  the 
greatest  evil — and  that  which  seems,  at  the  moment,  to  be  a 
dire  misfortune,  not  seldom  eventuates  in  a most  fortunate  dis- 
pensation.* 

But  although  human  laws,  at  least  in  this  country,  convert 
the  minor  into  the  man,  at  the  age  of  21  years,  the  corporeal 
frame  does  not  arrive  at  maturity — at  its  full  development — till 
several  years  afterwards — till  the  middle  or  rather  the  end  of 
the  fourth  Septenniad — while  the  intellectual  faculties  require  a 
still  longer  period  for  their  acme  of  vigour.  Up  to  this  period 
(24  to  28  years)  Nature  herself  conducts  and  superintends  the 
growth  and  successive  evolutions  of  the  corporeal  fabric,  its 
functions,  and  its  powers.  No  human  art  or  circumstance  can 
materially  retard  or  accelerate  the  progressive  steps  by  which 
the  body  attains  its  ultimatum  of  development.  Various  dele- 


* A long  and  chequered  life  has  furnished  me  with  very  many  illustrations 
of  this  position.  I shall  only  glance  at  one.  After  a most  dangerous  illness 
in  His  Majesty’s  Service,  I was  invalided  at  Madras,  and  procured  a passage 
in  a line-of-battle  ship  for  England.  After  my  goods  and  chattels  were  on 
board,  the  ship  was  suddenly  ordered  to  sea,  while  I was  making  a little  ex- 
cursion from  the  Presidency.  I got  back  to  Madras,  just  in  time  to  see  the 
vessel  sail  from  the  roads,  while  two  of  my  brother  officers,  more  prudent  than 
myself,  had  wisely  (in  all  human  prudence)  taken  up  their  berths  on  board, 
and  were  now  on  their  voyage  to  Europe;  while  I was  left  destitute  on  a 
foreign  shore,  in  sickness  and  in  poverty ! After  surmounting  various  diffi- 
culties, and  repining  for  months  on  my  misfortunes,  I at  length  reached  my 
native  soil.  The  line-of-battle  ship  foundered  at  sea,  and  not  a human 
being  of  the  crew  or  passengers  survived  to  tell  the  tale ! From  that  day  till 
this  (now  more  than  30  years  ago)  I have  always  hailed  an  apparent  misfor- 
tune as  the  harbinger,  if  not  the  actual  agent,  of  some  providential  benefit  or 
escape. 


PHASES  OK  LIFE. 


59 


terious  agents  may  destroy  life,  and  thus  prevent  maturity  from 
being  gained  at  all ; but,  if  the  individual  live  to  the  age  of  24 
or  25  years,  he  will  have  acquired  all  or  almost  all  the  corporeal 
perfection  of  which  he  is  susceptible.  Up  to  this  point,  the 
supply  is  greater  than  the  waste,  and  increase  of  strength,  if 
not  of  stature,  is  the  result.  In  the  middle  of  the  fourth  Sep- 
tenniad,  the  balance  is  nearly  equipoised — and  Nature  only  lends 
her  aid  to  sustain  the  equilibrium,  for  very  many  years  after- 
wards. But  it  is  in  the  power  of  man  himself,  to  abridge  or 
extend  this  period  of  equilibrium,  in  a most  extraordinary 
degree.  The  period  of  this  adjusted  balance  (say  from  28  to 
42)  is  not  so  very  strictly  limited  as  the  period  between  birth 
and  maturity.  At  the  age  of  42,  the  summit  of  the  arch  of  life 
is  gained — and  thence  it  gradually  descends.  But  this  key- 
stone of  the  arch  is  not  so  fixed,  as  the  key-stone  of  growth,  at 
the  age  of  24  years.  By  intemperance,  by  misfortune,  by  here- 
ditary or  accidental  diseases,  the  individual  passes  his  meridian 
at  35,  or  even  sooner,  instead  of  reaching  the  meridian  of  42. 
Nature,  too,  who  is  always  indulgent  to  those  who  obey  her 
dictates,  will  sometimes,  though  rarely,  protract  this  middle 
period  to  50  years ; but  it  is  in  the  succeeding  period  of  declen- 
sion from  the  meridian,  that  the  greatest  latitude  or  variety  is 
observable.  After  the  completion  of  the  seventh  Septenniad — 
49  years — indulgent  Nature  gives  a comparatively  unlimited 
scope  to  the  powers  of  life — at  least  till  the  end  of  the  twelfth 
Septenniad — 84 — when  it  seems  that,  except  on  very  extra- 
ordinary occasions,  she  determines  that  those  who  have  arrived 
at  that  advanced  age  shall  have  only  a probability  (to  use  the 
language  of  the  Insurance  Offices)  of  three  years  and  a half  of — 
•decrepitude  ! This  may  be  considered  as  a slight  anticipation 
of  the  subject ; but  it  is  no  more  than  a mere  glimpse  of  the 
vista  in  perspective. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  Septenniad,  the  female  is  as 
much  matured  in  constitution,  as  the  male  at  the  middle  of  the 
same  epoch — but  neither  the  one  at  21,  nor  the  other  at  24 
years,  is  at  the  acme  of  strength  and  firmness  in  organization. 


CO 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


The  human  frame  will  have  acquired  its  ultimate  healthy  di- 
mensions, but  not  its  solidity  and  full  power  of  bearing  labour 
and  fatigue,  till  the  age  of  24  in  the  one  sex,  and  28  or  30  in 
the  other. 

The  fourth  Septenniao  then,  is,  perhaps,  the  most  critical 
and  dangerous,  for  both  sexes,  in  the  whole  series — as  far  as 
health  and  happiness  are  concerned.  The  health  of  the  male 
sex  is  most  perilled — the  happiness  of  the  female — if  indeed  it 
be  possible  that  one  of  these  conditions  can  be  damaged  without 
the  participation  of  the  other  ! The  connexion  between  health 
and  pleasure  demands  a few  remarks  at  this  particular  period  of 
life,  when  the  latter  is  too  often  sought  at  the  expence  of  its 
chief  source,  the  former . 

The  structure  of  the  human  frame  displays  such  infinite  wis- 
dom, that  we  may  safely  infer  equal  benevolence  and  skill  in  the 
divine  Architect.  An  investigation  of  the  functions  of  the  liv- 
ing machine  will  convert  this  inference  into  a demonstration. 
There  can  be  little  doubt  that,  as  man  was  first  turned  out  of 
the  hands  of  his  Creator,  the  whole  fabric  was  calculated  to 
maintain  health  and  experience  happiness  unalloyed.  Even  in 
his  present  fallen  and  degraded  condition,  and  during  the  ordi- 
nary health  enjoyed  under  ordinary  circumstances,  the  exercise 
of  every  function,  in  the  body  (numerous  and  complicated  as 
these  functions  are),  contributes  its  quota  of  pleasure  to  the  sum 
total  of  happiness.  It  may  reasonably  be  asked  how  this  can 
be,  seeing  that  all  the  great  vital  functions  that  sustain  our  ex- 
istence, are  carried  on,  not  only  without  our  knowledge,  but 
without  our  consent  ? Thus  the  heart  circulates  the  blood,  and 
the  lungs  oxigenate  it,  without  our  consciousness  of  these  im- 
portant operations.  The  stomach  digests  our  food,  unknown 
and  unfelt  by  us.  The  liver  secretes  bile  : — In  short,  the  whole 
of  what  are  termed  the  organic  or  automatic  functions,  the 
essential  and  immediate  props  of  life,  are  conducted  without 
our  privity  or  assent.  Yet,  by  a wonderful  species  of  inter- 
communication (the  great  sympathetic  nerve),  the  two  systems 
of  life — the  organic  and  the  animal — the  involuntary  and  the 


SOURCES  OF  PLEASURE. 


61 


voluntary — tlie  vegetable  and  the  spiritual — touch  without  min- 
gling, and  sympathize  without  surrendering  their  independence! 

The  natural  and  quiet  exercise  of  these  vital  but  involuntary 
functions  amounts  to  a sum  total  which  cannot  be  expressed  by 
numbers,  nor  defined  by  words.  It  is  the  feeling  of  health 
and  spirits — a feeling  which,  like  its  source,  is  independent  of 
the  exercise  of  the  animal  and  intellectual  functions.  It  may 
exist  independently  of  sensation,  motion,  perception,  or  reflec- 
tion ; yet  gives  acuteness  to  the  first,  activity  to  the  second, 
clearness  to  the  third,  and  soundness  to  the  fourth  of  these 
operations.  The  truth  of  these  positions  is  too  often,  and  too 
mournfully  proved  by  the  converse.  When  the  functions  of 
organic  life  (circulation,  digestion,  secretion,  &c.)  deviate,  by 
any  cause,  from  their  natural,  and  consequently  their  healthful 
state,  although  there  may  be  no  external  indication,  or  local 
recognition  of  such  deviation,  there  will  yet  be  some  general  or 
inexplicable  feeling  of  discomfort,  distraction,  distress,  or  dis- 
content, varying  in  degree  or  intensity,  from  the  slightest  mal- 
aise up  to  the  most  poignant  feelings  of  misery,  leading  to 
insanity  or  suicide  ! 

But  the  sources  of  pleasure  and  of  suffering  are  not  limited  to 
the  functions  of  organic  or  vegetable  life.  They  are  far  more 
apparent,  tangible,  and  exquisite  in  the  exercise  of  the  animal 
or  intellectual  functions.  Sensation,  through  the  medium  of 
the  five  senses  (seeing,  feeling,  hearing,  tasting,  and  smelling), 
brings  with  it  a host  of  pleasures  or  pains.  If  man  had  been 
born  with  only  the  single  sense  of  sight,  through  the  medium  of 
which  he  surveys,  with  delight,  the  myriads  of  objects,  from  the 
starry  firmament,  down  to  the  miraculous  revelations  of  the  mi- 
croscope, he  would  have  just  cause  for  gratitude  to  his  Creator. 
But  when  we  examine  the  other  senses,  and  the  various  channels 
through  which  pleasure  flows  upon  the  moral  and  physical  man, 
we  must  acknowledge  the  infinite  beneficence  as  well  as  omnis- 
cience of  God.  The  capacity  for  enjoyment  increases  regularly 
as  one  system  of  organs  rises  over  another.  It  is  lowest  in  the 
organic  life,  or  those  organs  whose  functions  are  not  under  our 


62 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


will — it  is  greatly  extended  in  the  animal  life,  or  life  of  relation 
with  the  world  around  us,  including  all  the  senses — but  it  is 
highest  of  all,  because  it  is  nearly  boundless,  in  the  intellectual 
system — that  system  which,  though  connected  with  matter,  and 
influenced  by  the  lowest  of  material  functions,  yet  springs  far 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  visible  world,  and  revels  in  the  bound- 
less domain  of  reflection. 

When  we  thus  contemplate  structure  built  on  structure — func- 
tion superadded  to  function — and  system  raised  over  system, 
from  the  meanest  organ  that  amalgamates  man  with  his  mother 
earth,  up  to  the  most  etherial  function  of  the  mind,  which  seems 
to  link  him  with  beings  of  angelic  nature — when  we  reflect  on 
the  wonderful  skill  with  which  the  whole  material  fabric  is  con- 
structed, and  the  astonishing  powers  with  which  it  is  endued 
for  repairing  accidental  damages  and  counteracting  the  wear  and 
tear  of  time,  we  are  not  unnaturally  led  to  the  conjecture,  that 
man  was  designed  for  immortality,  when  first  turned  out  of  his 
Creator’s  hands.*  But  a farther  investigation,  and  melancholy 
experience  soon  teach  us,  either  that  the  design  of  immortality 
was  abandoned  by  the  divine  Architect,  or  that  some  mysterious 
and  fatal  revolution  took  place  in  the  destiny,  as  well  as  in  the 
constitution  of  mankind. 

Whether  this  doom  of  death  was  consequent  on  the  fall  of 
man,  as  literally  or  allegorically  portrayed  in  Genesis ; — or 
whether  the  seeds  of  decay  were  sown  with  the  first  rudiments 
of  his  creation,  may  for  ever  remain  a matter  of  dispute  or  con- 
jecture— not  so  the  wisdom  and  justice  of  the  decree.  Immor- 
tality— or  even  a considerable  prolongation  of  man’s  existence 
in  this  world,  would  now  be  the  greatest  curse  that  his  Creator 
could  inflict  on  him.  It  would  be  incompatible  not  only  with 
the  happiness  of  the  individual,  but  with  that  of  the  whole  spe- 
cies. Even  in  the  brief  space  of  man’s  career  on  this  globe,  the 
appetite  for  pleasure  begins  to  be  sated,  before  the  ordinary  sea- 


* This  passage  is  condemned  by  one  of  my  critics;  but  I am  still  of  opinion 
that  the  conjecture  is  not  unnatural. — 2nd  Ed. 


ACME  OF  GROWTH. 


63 


son  of  enjoyment  is  passed ; and  were  his  years  tripled  or  qua- 
drupled, this  earth  would  fail  to  afford  novelty,  and  sameness  of 
scene  would  sicken  every  sense  ! If  a millennium  should  ever 
obtain  in  this  world,  there  must  first  be  a new  creation  of  beings, 
and  that  of  a nature  by  us  totally  inconceivable. 

I have  already  observed,  that  about  the  middle  of  the  fourth 
Septenniad  (24  or  25)  man  arrives  at  the  limit  of  physical  de- 
velopment ; — but  it  is  rather  the  acm£  of  dimensions  than  of 
density — of  structure  rather  than  of  strength.  During  the  lat- 
ter years  of  growth,  especially  if  it  be  rapid,  Nature  appears  to 
be,  in  some  degree,  exhausted  by  the  effort  of  completing  the 
fabric,  and  requires  a temporary  economy  rather  than  a profuse 
expenditure  of  her  powers.  The  human  tabernacle,  like  other 
tenements  of  clay,  is  much  better  for  a few  years  of  seasoning 
and  settlement  after  the  building  is  completed.  The  tall  and 
full-grown  pine  is  too  soft  and  succulent  to  be  formed,  at  once, 
into  the  giddy  mast,  and  bend  elastic  to  the  sweeping  gale. 

A stock  of  temperance  and  exercise  laid  in  at  this  period  will 
return  fifty  per  cent,  more  of  profit  in  the  course  of  life,  than  if 
attempted  at  any  other  epoch  subsequently.  Temperance  not 
only  conduces  directly  to  the  consolidation  of  the  constitutional 
edifice  just  completed ; but  proves  one  of  the  best  bulwarks 
against  some  of  the  most  fatal  rocks  on  which  health  and  hap- 
piness are  often  wrecked  in  riper  years.  Circe  could  not  trans- 
form the  associates  of  Ulysses  into  swine,  till  they  had  quaffed 
the  intoxicating  draught — but  the  fatal  goblet  was  no  sooner 
drained  than — 

“ Instant  her  circling  wand  the  goddess  wav’d. 

To  hogs  transform’d  them,  and  the  stye  receiv’d; 

No  more  was  seen  the  human  face  divine.” 

Exercise,  at  this  period,  not  only  co-operates  with  tempe- 
rance in  the  invigoration  of  the  body,  but  powerfully  controls 
those  effervescences  of  temperament,  and  tides  of  exuberant 
energy,  that  so  often  burst  their  proper  boundaries,  and  hurl 
the  youth  impetuously  along,  in — 

“ Pleasure’s  path,  or  Passion’s  mad  career.” 


64 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


When  the  poet  apostrophized  the  good  fortune  of  those  who 
crown  a “ youth  of  labour ” with  an  “ age  of  ease,”  it  is  clear 
that,  by  the  term  labour,  he  meant  industry — and  by  ease,  in- 
dependence. But  the  literal  acceptation  of  these  significant 
words  is  even  more  applicable  than  the  metaphorical.  Exercise, 
in  the  early  years  of  life,  is  more  certainly  followed  by  freedom 
from  pain  in  the  advanced  epochs  of  existence,  than  economy  is 
followed  by  competence — or,  in  the  words  of  the  poet, — labour 
by  ease.  If  the  youth  could  see,  as  the  physician  daily  sees, 
the  exorbitant  usury  which  habitual  indulgence  in  pleasure 
and  sloth,  pays  in  the  sequel— and  that  too,  not  in  money, 
which  is  dross,  but  in  bodily  and  mental  suffering  (the  only 
penalty  that  will  be  accepted),  he  would  shudder  at  the  prospect 
— dash  the  cup  from  his  lip — and  tug  at  the  oar  of  industry, 
like  the  meanest  peasant. 

It  is  in  the  fourth  Septenniad,  that  the  more  athletic  or  gym- 
nastic exercises  should  be  practised,  as  less  likely  to  strain  or 
injure  the  fabric,  now  on  the  confines  of  its  utmost  degree  of 
consolidation.  The  affluent  have  no  excuse  for  idleness,  but 
the  want  of  will.  The  professional,  mercantile,  and  even  the 
mechanical  classes  have  a more  plausible  excuse — the  want  of 
time.  But  there  is  alvvay  a way  when  there  is  a will;  and  this 
will  would  be  more  frequently  exerted,  if  the  consequences 
could  be  foreseen.  A short  illustration  drawn  from  fact,  and 
not  from  fancy,  may  not  be  misplaced.  There  was  a time  when 
a gentleman  walked — because  he  could  not  afford  to  ride — and 
then  he  was  seldom  ailing.  A period  came  when  he  kept  his 
carriage — because  he  could  not  afford  to  walk — and  then  he  was 
seldom  well.  He  hit  on  a remedy,  that  combined  the  economy 
of  time  with  the  preservation  of  health.  Instead  of  jumping 
into  the  carriage,  on  leaving  a house,  he  started  off  at  a quick 
pace,  that  kept  the  horses  on  a trot  after  him.  When  well 
warmed  wTith  walking,  a little  fatigued,  or  straitened  for  time, 
he  sprang  into  the  carriage,  closed  three  of  the  windows,  and 
read,  till  he  arrived  at  the  next  rendezvous,  after  which,  the 
same  process  of  alternate  pedestrian  and  passive  exercise  was 


MIXED  EXERCISE. 


65 


reiterated.  Now  this  is  a combination  of  the  two  kinds  of  ex- 
ercise which  I had  proved  by  experiment,  many  years  previously, 
to  be  extremely  salutary.*  It  is  one  which  the  rich  can  com- 
mand without  sacrifice — even  of  dignity; — and  which  many 
others  might  employ  with  very  little  sacrifice  of  that  valuable 
commodity — time, — and  with  great  advantage  in  respect  to 
health.  I am  well  aware  that  there  is  a very  large  class  em- 
barked in  trade,  commerce,  literature,  science,  and  the  profes- 
sions who  may  say,  and  truly,  that  such  a plan  is  impracticable. 
It  may  be  so;  but  ingenuity  may  suggest  other  plans,  adapted 
to  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  each  individual.  In  how  many 
hundred — I might  say  thousands,  of  instances  have  I heard  it 
urged,  that  intervals  of  relaxation  from  business,  or  periods  of 
salutary  exercise  in  the  open  air,  are  totally  precluded  by  the 
nature  of  the  avocation.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  great  num- 
bers of  both  sexes  are  unfortunately  placed  in  this  predicament; 
and  have  only  the  alternative  of  injured  health  or  ruined  cir- 
cumstances, Bad  as  is  the  latter,  the  former  is  worse.  But  a 
great  majority  of  individuals  have  the  means  of  procuring  some 
portion  of  exercise,  if  they  would  but  exert  their  ingenuity. 
The  example  which  I have  quoted  can  only  be  adopted  by  those 
who  are  circumstanced  similarly  to  the  author,  but  it  may  serve 
as  a stimulus  to  invention  in  other  cases. 

The  fourth  Septenniad  is  not  perhaps  the  most  proper  period 
for  repressing  the  passion  of  ambition  or  avarice,  and  encou- 
raging exercise  of  body  and  relaxation  of  mind.  The  love  of 
pleasure  has  not  yet  experienced  the  slightest  check  from  rivals 
that  are,  on  a future  day,  to  overwhelm  and  annihilate  it ; but 
indolence  is  apt  to  insinuate  itself  between  love  and  ambition, 
in  this  period  of  life,  and  having  once  got  the  mastery,  may 
injure  or  even  incapacitate  the  individual,  by  gradually  sapping 
the  moral  and  physical  energies,  before  they  are  completely 
developed. 


* In  1823,  during  a tour  on  the  Continent,  and  in  many  subsequent  ex- 
cursions.— See  “ Change  of  Air,”  4 th  Ed. 


K 


66 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


The  fourth  Septenniad  is  claimed,  in  an  especial  manner, 
by  Hymen-— Cupid  having  been,  for  some  years  previously,  in 
the  field,  as  pioneer.  The  most  proper  age  for  entering  the 
holy  bands  of  matrimony  has  been  much  discussed,  but  never 
settled.  I am  entitled  to  my  opinion ; and  although  I cannot 
here  give  the  grounds  on  which  it  rests,  the  reader  may  take  it 
for  granted  that  I could  adduce,  were  this  the  proper  place,  a 
great  number  of  weighty  reasons,  both  moral  and  physical,  for 
the  dogma  which  I am  going  to  propound.  The  maxim,  then, 
which  I would  inculcate  is  this — that  matrimony  should  not  be 
contracted  before  the  first  year  of  the  fourth  Septenniad,  on 
the  part  of  the  female — nor  before  the  last  year  of  the  same,  in 
the  case  of  the  male.  In  other  words,  the  female  should  be,  at 
least,  21  years  of  age,  and  the  male  28  years.  That  there 
should  be  seven  years  difference  between  the  ages  of  the  sexes, 
at  whatever  period  of  life  the  solemn  contract  is  entered  upon, 
need  not  be  urged,  as  it  is  universally  admitted.  There  is  a 
difference  of  seven  years,  not  in  the  actual  duration  of  life,  in 
the  two  sexes,  but  in  the  stamina  of  the  constitution,  the  sym- 
metry of  the  form,  and  the  lineaments  of  the  face.  The  wear 
and  tear  of  bringing  up  a family  might  alone  account  for  this 
inequality — but  there  are  other  causes  inherent  in  the  constitu- 
tion, and  independent  of  matrimony  or  celibacy. 

In  respect  to  early  marriage,  as  far  as  it  concerns  the  softer 
sex,  I have  to  observe  that,  for  every  year  at  which  the  hymeneal 
knot  is  tied,  below  the  age  of  21,  there  wdll  be,  on  an  average, 
three  years  of  premature  decay  of  the  corporeal  fabric — and  a 
considerable  abbreviation  of  the  usual  range  of  human  existence. 
It  is  in  vain  to  point  out  instances  that  seem  to  nullify  this  cal- 
culation. There  will  be  individual  exceptions  to  all  general 
rules.  The  above  will  be  found  a fair  average  estimate. 

On  the  moral  consequences  of  too  early  marriages,  it  is  not 
my  intention  to  dilate;  though  I could  adduce  many  strong  ar- 
guments against,  and  very  few  in  favour  of  the  practice.  It  has 
been  said  that  “ matrimony  may  have  miseries,  but  celibacy  has 
no  pleasures.”  As  far  as  too  early  marriage  is  concerned,  the 


MATRIMONY.  6J 

adage  ought  to  run  thus — “ marriage  must  have  miseries,  though 
celibacy  may  have  no  pleasures.” 

The  choice  of  a wife  or  a husband  is  rather  foreign  to  my 
subject,  and  has  occupied  much  abler  pens  than  mine,  to  little 
advantage.  It  is  not  improbable  that,  were  the  whole  of  the 
adult  population  registered  as  they  came  of  age,  and  each  per- 
son, male  or  female,  of  the  same  rank  in  life,  drew  a name  out 
of  the  urn,  and  thus  rendered  matrimony  a complete  lottery,  the 
sums  total  of  happiness,  misery,  or  content,  would  be  nearly  the 
same,  as  upon  the  present  principle  of  selection.  This,  at  first 
sight,  will  appear  a most  startling  proposition ; but  the  closer 
we  examine  it,  the  less  extravagant  it  will  be  found. 

Courtship  is  too  often  a state  of  manoeuvring,  the  art  and 
principles  of  which  are  adroitly  exercised  during  this  interesting 
period  of  life.  Each  party  naturally  enough  conceals  the  weak 
points,  and  prominently  portrays  the  strong,  the  amiable,  and 
the  beautiful.  Add  to  this  system  of  intentional  deception,  the 
fact  that  Love  is  blind,  and  therefore  prone  to  overlook  defects! 
What  says  Shakespeare  on  this  subject  ? 

“ The  Lunatic,  the  Lover,  and  the  Poet, 

Are  of  imagination  all  compact : — 

One  sees  more  devils  than  vast  Hell  can  hold ; 

That  is  the  Madman  : — The  Lover  all  as  frantic. 

Sees  Helen’s  beauty  in  a brow  of  Egypt!” 

Matrimony,  in  a majority  of  instances,  is  a lottery,  in  which 
many  draw  blanks  or  worse,  when  they  expect  great  prizes.  It 
is  also  to  be  remembered,  that  a very  great  proportion  of  matches 
are  based  on  purely  mercenary  motives,  and 

Where  love  is  but  an  empty  sound. 

The  modern  fair  one’s  jest. — 

But  where  sordid  interest  has  no  share  in  the  contract,  how  of- 
ten is  sudden  passion,  or  cc  love  at  first  sight,”  the  preliminary 
to  marriage ! He  who  has  looked  narrowly  into  mankind,  must 
acknowledge  that,  for  one  match  resulting  from  long  acquaint- 
ance, mutual  esteem,  and  disinterested  affection,  there  are  ten 
where  these  supposed  essentials  are  absent.  It  is  probable  that 


68 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


in  a majority  of  what  are  termed  “ love-matches/’  the  shaft 
of  Ccjpid  is  sped  at  the  first  interview.  Every  one  must  call  to 
mind  numerous  instances  of  this  kind ; but  we  need  only  refer 
to  the  Poet  of  Nature  for  corroboration.  Three-fourths  of  his 
lovers,  male  and  female,  are  captivated  at  the  first  glance.  Look 
at  Romeo  and  Juliet.  They  fall  desperately  in  love  at  the  first 
meeting — and  not  only  so,  but  Romeo,  in  one  moment,  shakes 
off  an  attachment  of  long-standing,  and  a chere  amie  to  whom 
he  had  made  as  many  vows  of  eternal  love  as  there  were  hairs 
in  his  head ! No  wonder  that  the  old  Friar  should  exclaim — 

**  Holy  St.  Francis,  what  a change  is  here ! 

Is  Rosaline,  whom  thou  did’st  love  so  dear. 

So  soon  forsaken  ? Young  men’s  love  then  lies 
Not  really  in  their  hearts,  but  in  their  eyes  /” 

How  long  were  Ferdinand  and  Miranda  courting  before  they 
were  over  head  and  ears  in  love  ? After  all,  I doubt  whether 
these  sudden  fallings  in  love,  and  short  courtships,  turn  out 
worse  than  the  generality  of  marriages  conducted  with  all  pos- 
sible caution,  prudence,  and  careful  calculation.  At  all  events, 
they  cannot  be  stigmatized  as  mercenary . Perhaps  of  all  evils 
in  matrimony,  long  courtships  are  the  worst. 

When  I adverted  to  the  lottery  of  matrimony,  I did  not  mean 
to  propose  or  recommend  it.  Such  a system  would  much  re- 
semble the  insurance  of  lives — a system  so  true  in  generalities, 
yet  so  false  in  specialities.  So  with  the  marriage  lottery.  Not 
one  might  be  entirely  contented  with  his  or  her  lot,  and  yet  the 
average  amount  of  happiness  and  misery  might  possibly  be  little 
different,  in  the  whole  community,  from  what  it  is  on  the  pre- 
sent plan  of  choice  and  selection.* 

It  may  appear  paradoxical,  but  I believe  it  to  be  true — that 
what  conduces  to  the  happiness  of  individuals  is  not  always  the 


* In  many  countries,  especially  of  the  East,  marriage  is  worse  than  a 
lottery,  the  females  having  no  choice,  but  the  will  of  their  parents,  and  the 
parties  seldom  having  an  opportunity  of  seeing  each  other  before  the  contract 
is  sealed.  In  this  case  there  is  neither  choice  nor  chance! 


MATRIMONY. 


(9 

most  conducive  to  the  welfare  of  the  state.  In  respect  to  matri- 
mony, there  can  scarcely  be  a doubt  that  the  best  chance  of  in- 
dividual happiness  will  be  based  on  equality  of  rank  and  fortune 
— on  similarity  of  tastes — on  congeniality  of  tempers — on  iden- 
tity of  religious  creeds — and  on  similar  cultivation  of  moral 
principles.  Yet,  if  all  these  things  could  be  balanced  and  ad- 
justed in  the  nicest  manner,  the  weal  of  the  whole  community 
would  ultimately  suffer.  The  good  would  be  joined  with  the 
good,  it  is  true — but  the  bad  would  be  linked  with  the  bad;  and 
misery  and  depravity  would  be  augmented  in  geometrical  pro- 
gression. Something  of  the  kind  (as  far  as  rank  is  concerned) 
does  actually  obtain  among  the  castes  of  the  Hindoos,  and  among 
the  royal  and  noble  families  of  Spain  and  some  other  countries. 
The  consequent  degeneration  is  notorious. 

As  matrimony  is  a state  into  which  mankind  is  almost  as  ir- 
resistibly impelled  or  attracted,  as  into  life  at  the  beginning,  or 
death  in  the  end,  so  in  despite  of  all  the  circumspection,  vigi- 
lance, and  selection  of  parents,  guardians,  and  lovers  themselves, 
there  will  always  be  a copious  effusion  into  the  hymeneal  con- 
tract, of  the  most  heterogeneous  elements,  conflicting  passions, 
and  contrasting  dispositions,  whether  we  regard  the  ages,  rank, 
wealth,  temper,  taste,  or  moral  qualities  of  the  parties  united. 
And  wisely  is  it  so  ordained.  These  jarring  elements  and  in- 
congruous temperaments,  which  are  utterly  irreconcileable  in 
the  parents,  are  blended  and  neutralized  in  the  progeny,  so  that 
the  general  stream  of  society  flows  more  smoothly  in  conse- 
quence ; exemplifying  the  maxim  of  the  poet — 

“ All  partial  ill  is  universal  good.” 

That  contrasts  produce  harmonies,  we  have  an  illustration  in  a 
palatable  and  salubrious  beverage,  composed  of  constituents  the 
most  opposite.  The  acidity  of  the  lemon  is  mollified  by  the 
sweetness  of  the  sugar,  while  the  fire  of  the  alcohol  is  quenched 
in  the  insipidity  of  the  water — the  whole  becoming  a mild  and 
homogeneous  fluid.  It  is  true  that  individuals  can  derive  little 
consolation  from  the  reflection,  that  their  own  misery  will  con- 


70 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


tribute  to  the  welfare  of  the  community — and  that  the  jarring 
elements  of  matrimonial  warfare  will  give  peace  and  happiness 
to  their  progeny.  Yet  the  contemplative  Christian  and  philo- 
sopher will  not  fail  to  trace,  in  this  dispensation,  the  wisdom  as 
well  as  the  power  of  a superintending  Providence  !* 

PULMONARY  CONSUMPTION. 

Though  not  confined  to  any  particular  epoch  of  life,  yet  this 
frightful  scourge  which  sweeps  away  one-fourth,  at  least,  of  the 
human  race  in  these  isles,  commits  its  chief  ravages  in  the  course 
of  the  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  Septenniads:  viz.  between  the 
ages  of  15  and  35.  Of  these  three  Septenniads,  the  fourth  is 
that  on  which  the  force  of  the  storm  is  expended.  In  this  Sep- 
tenniad  the  daughters  of  the  upper  classes  are  “out,”  and  con- 
sequently much  more  exposed  to  atmospheric  influence,  late 
hours,  and  all  the  deleterious  agents  of  fashionable  life,  than 
they  were  during  their  nonage.  In  the  middle  classes,  both 
sexes  are  also  put  out  to  their  destined  avocations,  and  thus 
rendered  more  open  to  the  operation  of  the  causes  of  the  disease 
than  previously.  Unprincipled  charlatans,  whether  in  or  out  of 
the  profession,  may  pretend  to  cure  consumption — it  is  for  the 
honest  man  to  portray  the  best  means  of  prevention , as  the  only 
security  against  this  fell  destroyer  of  mankind. 


* A clever  Reviewer  (in  the  Atlas)  has  given  me  a smart  brush  on  the  sub- 
ject of  matrimony — especially  on  its  comparison  with  a lottery,  and  on  court- 
ship resembling  a warfare.  In  respect  to  the  lottery,  I neither  propose  nor 
recommend  it.  It  was  a mere  abstract  speculation.  And,  after  all,  when  we 
consider  the  number  of  imprudent,  ill-assorted,  mercenary,  and  deceptious 
contracts  that  are  made  before  the  hymeneal  knot  is  tied,  and  the  bitter  dis- 
appointments, crosses,  misfortunes,  difficulties,  jarring  temperaments,  and 
absolute  ruin  that  succeed  that  event,  it  is  not  easy  to  imagine  that  even  a 
lottery  would  add  to  the  evils.  I speak  not  of  what  ought  to  be,  but  what 
actually  is,  and  I wish  the  picture  I have  drawn  may  be  overcharged.  As  to 
the  warfare  of  courtship,  I grant  it  was  not  a good  term,  and  have  changed  it, 
in  compliment  to  my  reviewer,  who  has  treated  me,  upon  the  whole,  with 
great  courtesy — indeed  clemency. — 2nd  Ed, 


PULMONARY  CONSUMPTION. 


71 


The  malady  may  be  conveniently  divided  into  four  periods — 
the  latent  state,  or  predisposition — the  incipient  stage,  exhibit- 
ing external  symptoms — the  transition  stage — and  the  confirmed 
stage,  or  that  of  irremediable  disorganization  of  the  lungs.  In 
the  first,  much  may  be  done  to  ward  off  the  evil — in  the  second , 
the  malady  is  sometimes  checked — but  in  the  third  and  fourth , 
the  case  is  all  but  hopeless. 

I. CONSTITUTIONAL  PREDISPOSITION. 

Long  before  the  common  symptoms  of  consumption  begin  to 
shew  themselves,  there  is  apparent  to  the  experienced  eye,  a 
condition  of  constitution  indicative  of  danger.  This  constitution 
is  generally  hereditary — but  often  acquired.  In  childhood,  the 
face  itself  presents  warnings,  as  evinced  by  thickness  of  the  up- 
per lip — pale  and  flabby  countenance — waxy  appearance  of  skin. 
In  youth,  the  eye-lashes  are  long — the  pupils  of  the  eye  large 
— languor  or  placidity  of  countenance.  The  head  is  oversized  in 
proportion — the  chest  narrow — the  abdomen  full.  The  growth 
of  the  body  is  not  regular  and  progressive,  being  sometimes  too 
quick,  sometimes  slow.  Nutrition  is  imperfect,  debility  is  com- 
plained of,  and  the  digestive  process  is  incomplete.  Examined 
more  closely,  the  individual  will  be  found  more  than  usually 
liable  to  take  cold — the  circulation  is  easily  excited — and  the 
breathing  easily  quickened  by  going  up  stairs  or  running.  To 
these  may  be  added,  a slender  neck,  pearly  teeth,  incurvated 
nails,  and  an  exquisitely  sensitive  skin.  But  although  it  is  upon 
such  constitutions  and  temperaments  that  consumption  makes 
the  greatest  depredations,  yet  there  is  no  constitution  entirely 
exempt  from  the  malady.  The  Negro  himself  often  falls  a sa- 
crifice to  it  in  this  climate.  All  this  time  the  intellect  is  clear 
— sometimes  precociously  developed.  The  temper  is  generally 
sweet,  and  the  character  of  the  individual  most  amiable. 

In  this  preliminary  stage  or  condition,  tubercles  are  formed 
or  forming.  They  may  be  as  small  as  grains  of  sand — but  the 
seed  is  sown,  and  only  wants  a few  auxiliary  circumstances  to 
ripen  it  into  fatal  activity. 


72 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


II.— SECOND  STAGE. 

In  the  second  stage,  external  symptoms  of  the  disease  itself 
begin  to  be  apparent.  A slight  cough,  always  attributed  by  the 
patient  to  cold,  attracts  the  notice  of  parents  or  friends.  It  is 
dry,  and  more  frequent  in  the  mornings  and  evenings  than  at 
other  times.  There  is  a disposition  to  chilliness,  especially  in 
damp  weather,  and  the  individual  likes  to  be  near  the  fire,  com- 
plaining of  cold  feet  and  a sensation  of  cold  water  trickling  along 
the  back.  These  chilly  feelings  are  generally  succeeded  by  slight 
reaction,  or  febrile  heat,  which,  however,  passes  quite  unnoticed 
by  the  invalid,  unless  closely  questioned,  when  he  or  she  will 
acknowledge  a sense  of  burning  in  the  palms  of  the  hands  and 
soles  of  the  feet,  when  in  bed.  This  cough  and  other  symptoms, 
if  they  appear  in  the  Spring,  often  subside  in  Summer,  and  the 
patient  and  friends  congratulate  themselves  on  complete  reco- 
very from  a common  cold.  But  the  Autumn  or  Winter  too  of- 
ten dispels  the  illusion,  and  brings  with  it  an  augmentation  of 
the  symptoms  abovementioned.  The  cough  is  now  attended 
with  some  frothy  expectoration — the  febrile  symptoms  are  more 
marked — the  shortness  of  breath,  on  going  up  stairs,  is  greater 
— debility  is  more  complained  of — and  it  becomes  evident  that 
the  invalid  is  losing  flesh.  Some  little  pain  is  now  often  com- 
plained of  in  some  or  other  part  of  the  chest — and  a deep  inspi- 
ration causes  cough  at  any  time.  Even  now  there  is  a prefer- 
ence of  lying  on  one  side  in  bed ; and  a close  examination  of 
the  chest  by  the  stethoscope,  will  often  detect  portions  of  the 
upper  lobes  of  one  or  both  lungs  incapable  of  receiving  the  pro- 
per proportion  of  air,  owing  to  the  growth,  diffusion,  or  agglo- 
meration of  tubercles. 

III. THIRD,  OR  TRANSITION  STAGE. 

In  this  stage,  the  expectoration,  from  being  frothy  or  mucous, 
begins  to  present  specks  of  white  or  yellow  matter,  shewing  that 
some  of  the  tubercles  have  acquired  size — are  softening  down — 
and  their  contents  making  way  into  the  air-tubes.  The  cough 


CONSUMPTION TRANSITION  STAGE.  J3 

and  febrile  symptoms  are  now  increased — there  are  occasionally 
some  streaks  of  blood  in  the  expectoration — the  evening  chills 
are  more  distinct — the  re-action  sharper — the  respiration  and 
circulation  more  frequent  and  quick — there  are  morning  pers- 
pirations— and,  in  short,  hectic  fever  is  established,  and  emaci- 
ation proceeds  with  augmented  pace.  Examination  of  the  chest 
will  now  generally  disclose  excavations  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
lungs,  on  one  or  both  sides.  Hemorrhage  is  not  now  uncom- 
mon. In  this  stage,  life  is  preserved  for  months  or  even  years, 
though  sometimes  a few  weeks  suffice  to  hurry  the  victim  to  the 
grave. 


FOURTH,  OR  LAST  STAGE. 

This  need  not  detain  us  long.  The  patient  steadily  emaciates 
— the  expectoration  becomes  profuse — the  breathing  laborious 
— the  pulse  rapid — the  bowels  relaxed — ulcers  form  in  the  mouth 
and  spread  along  the  first  passages — the  evening  chills  and 
morning  perspirations  are  distressing — diarrhoea  takes  place — 
and  death  happily  closes  the  scene,  the  patient  confident  in 
hope  till  the  last  breath  ! The  stethoscope,  at  this  period, 
discovers  large  excavations  in  the  lungs,  surrounded  by  con- 
densations and  tuberculous  deposits  in  various  stages  of  disor- 
ganization. 

Thus  then,  divested  of  mysticism  and  verbiage,  the  prominent 
symptoms  and  progress  of  pulmonary  consumption  are  here 
portrayed  in  little  more  than  a couple  of  pages. 

CAUSATION. 

What,  it  may  be  asked,  is  the  cause  of  all  this  destructive 
process  ? An  unhealthy  habit  of  body,  called  strumous  or  scro- 
fulous, is  either  hereditary  or  acquired.  In  the  latter  case,  a 
great  number  of  causes  combine  to  produce  this  state  of  consti- 
tution, as  bad  diet,  impure  air,  scanty  cloathing,  exposure  to 
damp,  late  hours,  fashionable  dissipation,  tight-lacing,  &c. — in 
short,  whatever  tends  to  deteriorate  the  general  health,  and  es- 
pecially to  disorder  the  organs  of  digestion.  This  state  once 


L 


74 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


induced,  tubercles  are  either  called  into  existence,  or,  if  they  have 
lain  dormant  from  infancy,  they  are  now  excited  into  activity. 
1 hey  grow  from  scarcely  visible  specks  to  the  size  of  a nut- 
meg,  or  larger — sometimes  isolated — more  frequently  in  clusters, 
encroaching  on  the  capacity  of  the  lungs — lessening  the  volume 
of  air  taken  in  at  each  breath — irritating,  and  often  inflaming 
the  substance  of  the  lungs  in  contiguity — and  ultimately  soften- 
ing down,  and  coming  forth  in  the  form  of  tuberculous  expec- 
toration, attended  with  hectic  fever,  and  all  the  fatal  signs  of 
confirmed  consumption  ! 

In  the  first  stage,  or  that  of  predisposition,  the  mal -habit 
of  constitution  may  be  often  corrected,  by  avoiding  the  causes 
above-enumerated,  and  by  improving  the  general  health.  Pure 
air,  light  nutritious  diet,  gentle  exercise,  attention  to  the  diges- 
tive organs,  will  frequently  render  the  soil,  as  it  were,  unfavour- 
able for  the  growth  of  tubercles,  or  prevent  their  generation. 
It  is  in  this  state  of  predisposition,  too,  that  the  calido-frigid 
lavation,  recommended  at  page  16  of  this  edition,  will  prove 
a powerful  defence  against  taking  cold,  one  of  the  most  common 
auxiliaries  of  the  dire  disease. 

Even  in  the  second  stage,  when  tubercles  have  afforded  but 
too  manifest  signs  of  their  presence,  much  may  be  done  in 
checking  their  progress.  Every  time  that  a common  cold  is 
caught,  the  growth  of  the  tubercles  is  accelerated  by  the  catar- 
rhal affection  of  the  mucous  membrane.  And  whenever  the 
tubercles  themselves  excite  inflammation  in  the  contiguous 
portions  of  lung,  this  very  inflammation  causes  an  augmented 
development  of  the  tubercles.*  Hence  the  importance  of  watch- 


* Each  inflammatory  cold  which  the  phthisical  invalid  catches,  acts  on  the 
incipient  tubercles  in  the  same  way  as  a shower  of  rain  succeeded  by  sun- 
shine, acts  on  grain  in  the  ground.  The  soil  is  moistened  and  then  warmed 
— the  consequence  is  acceleration  of  growth  in  the  seed.  In  the  inflamma- 
tory catarrh,  an  increased  afflux  of  blood  is  determined  to  the  lungs,  with  cor- 
responding increase  of  temperature.  The  growth  of  tubercles  is  thereby  aug- 
mented. Thus,  though  the  process  of  tuberculation  is  not  strictly  an  inflam- 
matory process,  yet  inflammation  is  a powerful  auxiliary  to  the  development 
of  these  morbid  bodies. 


CONSUMPTION FOURTH  STAGE.  7 5 

ing  these  events,  and  counteracting  the  evil  speedily  by  leeches, 
blisters,  seclusion,  spare  diet,  and  proper  remedies.  Hence  the 
necessity  of  scrupulously  avoiding  cold  and  damp  air,  sudden 
transitions  of  temperature,  exertions  of  body,  and  every  thing, 
moral  or  physical,  that  can  excite  the  circulation  or  hurry  the 
respiration.  Warm  cloathing,  a regulated  temperature,  and 
attention  to  the  various  secretions,  arc  now  of  vital  importance. 
Yet  at  this  very  time  thousands  of  individuals  are  permitted  or 
obliged  to  go  out  and  expose  themselves  to  atmospheric  vicissi- 
tudes that  accelerate  the  progress  of  the  malady. 

It  is  in  these  two  stages,  namely,  during  the  period  of  predis- 
position and  incipient  development  of  symptoms  (but  especially 
in  the  former),  that  the  change  to  a milder  climate,  during  Win- 
ter and  Spring,  offers  any  chance  of  success.  The  benefit  to  be 
expected  is  two-fold -first 9 the  higher  temperature  of  the  air 
than  in  our  own  atmosphere — and  secondly , the  increased  faci- 
lities of  getting  out  into  the  open  air  daily  in  the  mild  climate, 
by  which  the  general  health  may  be  improved.  This  last,  in- 
deed, is  the  chief  advantage  to  be  derived  from  Nice,  Italy,  or 
Madeira.  There  are  some  localities  in  our  own  country  which 
offer  valuable  retreats,  during  Winter  and  Spring,  for  the  phthi- 
sical invalid,  little  inferior  to  the  boasted  skies  of  Italy.  These 
are,  Hastings,  the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  Clifton.  These  places  do 
not  present  the  azure  sky,  dazzling  sun,  and  brilliant  stars  of 
Italy;  but  they  are  free  from  the  chilling  tramontanes,  the  deadly 
malaria,  and  the  uncomfortable  mansions  of  the  classic  soil. 

By  a temporary  residence,  annually,  in  one  or  other  of  these 
localities,  the  growth  of  tubercles  is  often  checked,  and  then 
they  may  lie  dormant  during  the  remainder  of  life. 

The  third  stage,  marked  by  the  appearance  of  tuberculous 
matter  in  the  expectoration,  defines  the  limits  between  probable 
recovery  and  death.  Not  one  in  one  hundred  need  expect  a cure 
after  the  tubercles  have  begun  to  break  down  and  discharge  their 
contents  by  the  air- passages.  The  few  recoveries  are  in  cases 
where  there  are  but  a small  number  of  tubercles,  and  where  a 
great  portion  of  the  lungs  is  quite  free  from  these  morbid 


76 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


growths.  In  such  instances,  the  softened  tubercle  or  cluster  of 
tubercles,  is  sometimes  entirely  discharged,  and  the  excavation 
heals.  This,  however,  results  from  improvement  in  the  general 
health,  and  not  from  the  operation  of  any  specific  remedy.  The 
ignorant  charlatan  and  the  unprincipled  empiric,  know  not  or 
regard  not  the  different  stages  of  the  disease  above- described — 
the  different  conditions  of  the  lungs  corresponding  with  those 
stages — and  the  different  modes  of  treatment  that  are  absolutely 
necessary  ! They  apply  their  nostrum,  and  they  promise  a cure, 
whatever  be  the  stage  of  the  malady,  whatever  be  the  state  of 
the  organ  of  respiration  ! Do  they  ever  effect  a cure  of  con- 
sumption ? Never.  They  apply  the  name  of  consumption  to 
diseases  that  are  not  consumption,  and  these  recoveries  are  bla- 
zoned forth  as  cures . But  they  hurry  many  a case  of  real  con- 
sumption to  the  grave — and  they  torture  many  a poor  creature 
with  their  inhalations,  frictions,  and  potent  drugs,  who  would 
otherwise  glide  down  to  the  tomb  with  comparatively  little 
pain  or  distress. 

The  commencement  of  the  third  stage — namely,  the  appear- 
ance of  tuberculous  expectoration,  while  it  reduces  our  hopes  of 
cure  to  the  lowest  ebb,  precludes  all  idea  of  removing  the  inva- 
lid to  a foreign  climate.  Such  a step  would  be  not  merely  use- 
less— it  would  be  cruel.  The  fatigues  of  a journey  or  voyage 
to  Italy  or  Madeira,  would  not  only  shorten  the  days,  but  em- 
bitter the  last  moments  of  the  dying  sufferer  ! Yet  how  many 
hundreds,  nay  thousands,  have  been  torn  from  their  comfortable 
homes  and  the  cheering  society  of  their  relations,  to  perish  in  a 
foreign  land,  bereft  of  the  balm  of  consolation  which  friendship 
can  pour  into  the  wounds  of  afflicted  humanity  on  the  bed  of 
death  ! Over  how  many  victims  of  this  kind  does  the  Pyramid 
of  Caius  Cestius  sweep  its  funereal  shade  daily  in  the  Eternal 
City  !* 

But  it  is  time  to  leave  this  melancholy  subject.  The  misfor- 


* The  English  burying-ground  in  Rome  is  close  to  the  Tomb  and  Pyramid 
of  Caius  Cestius. 


CONSUMPTION. 


77 


tune  generally  falls  on  the  most  amiable  of  both  sexes — and 
that  from  no  fault  of  their  own,  but  from  the  taint  of  constitu- 
tion transmitted  from  parent  to  progeny  ! It  is  a merciful  dis- 
pensation of  Providence  that,  in  this  most  fatal  of  all  diseases, 
the  hand  of  death  is  never  perceived  stealing  over  the  emaciated 
frame,  by  the  destined  victim  ; — on  the  contrary, 

“ Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  hectic  breast,” 

and  the  eye  is  closed  in  everlasting  slumber  during  undiminished 
confidence  of  recovery  ! Whether  this  happy  “ blindness  to  the 
future”  should  be  broken  by  removing  the  film  from  the  mental 
optics  of  the  departing  soul,  is  for  the  determination  of  the 
Divine.  It  should  never  be  done  by  the  Physician. 

N.B. — An  ingenious  friend  of  mine,  Mr.  Julius  Jeffreys,  has 
invented  a very  curious  and  useful  apparatus  which  may  be  worn 
over  the  mouth,  and  which  renders  the  air  drawn  into  the  lungs, 
even  in  the  coldest  weather,  of  the  temperature  of  Madeira,  or 
even  of  the  Tropics.  The  heat  of  the  breath  that  is  expired,  is 
communicated  to  numerous  layers  of  fine  gold  or  silver  wire, 
and  this  metallic  recipient  re-communicates  the  caloric  to  the 
air  inspired , so  that  the  lungs  themselves  prove  a reservoir  of 
heat  for  the  atmospheric  air  which  we  breathe.  This  apparatus 
promises  to  be  of  the  greatest  importance  to  phthisical  invalids 
— and  also  to  people  of  weak  or  irritable  lungs,  to  be  worn  when 
they  are  exposed  to  the  night  air,  or  sudden  changes  of  tem- 
perature, as  when  coming  from  theatres,  churches,  assemblies, 
or  crowded  places  of  any  kind. — 2 d Ed.  Feb.  1837. 


78 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


FIFTH  Sc  SIXTH  SEPTENNIADS. 

[28  to  42  years.'] 

THE  GOLDEN  iERA, 

Although  Dr.  S.  Johnson  was  not  quite  correct  in  his  assertion,  so 
often  repeated  to  Mrs.  Thrale,  that 

“ Life  declines  from  thirty-five,” 

yet  it  is  certain  that,  after  the  period  in  question,  the  corporeal  fabric 
of  man  ceases  to  acquire  any  addition  of  power  or  perfection  of  func- 
tion ; though  it  may,  and  generally  does  augment  in  size — the  increase 
of  dimensions  being  often  diminution  of  strength.  The  fifth  and 
sixth  Septenniads  are,  as  it  were,  the  double  key-stone  of  the  arch 
of  human  life ; but  the  curve  of  the  arch  in  this  place  is  so  impercep- 
tible, that,  during  this  long  period  of  fourteen  years,  it  cannot  often  be 
distinguished  from  a right  line.  It  is  in  this  respect  that  the  Johnso- 
nian dogma  is  not  strictly  correct.  Life  remains,  as  it  were,  at  a stand 
(as  far  as  corporeal  structure  is  concerned)  during  the  fifth  and  sixth 
Septenniads — perhaps  a little  longer.*  If  the  highest  point  of  the 
arch  could  be  ascertained,  I should  be  inclined  to  place  it  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  sixth  Septenniad — that  is,  about  the  age  of  36  or  37  years 
— namely,  several  years  below  the  standard  of  Dr.  Smith — and  one  or 
two  years  above  that  of  the  Great  Moralist.  The  point  of  sensible  de- 
clination from  the  meridian,  however,  is  about  the  age  of  43  years.  But 
whether  we  determine  that  the  centre  of  the  key- stone  should  be  a little 
on  one,  or  on  the  other  side  of  the  point  abovementioned,  it  will  be  ad- 
mitted that  the  double  Septenniad,  between  28  and  42,  is  the  Golden 
tEra  of  human  life — that  period  in  which  the  material  fabric  and  func- 


* It  will  be  seen  from  the  following  extract,  that  Dr.  Southwood  Smith  ( Philo- 
sophy of  Health)  takes  a more  favorable  view  of  human  life  than  I do.  “ Thus  the 
interval  between  the  period  of  birth  and  that  of  adult  age  includes  a term  of  twenty- 
three  years.  The  interval  between  the  adult  age  and  that  when  life  just  begins  to  de- 
cline from  its  meridian,  includes  a term  of  twenty-four  years.”  It  may  be  true  that 
the  rate  of  mortality  does  not  begin  to  increase  till  after  the  47th  year,  but  that  the 
corporeal  powers  begin  to  “ decline  from  their  meridian,”  five  years  before  that  pe- 
riod, 1 fear  is  but  too  true. — J.  J. 


MKRIDIAN  OF  LIFJS. 


79 

tions,  as  well  as  the  intellectual  faculties  and  capacities  touch  their  me- 
ridian, in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  the  hundred.  It  is  in  this  interval  that 
the  body  possesses  its  maximum  of  solidity  and  strength,  without  the 
loss  of  its  elasticity  and  buoyancy.  This  is,  in  fact,  the  prime  of  life. 

This  is  the  epoch,  too,  of  man’s  existence  (provided  he  has  not  grossly 
violated  the  laws  of  Nature  and  temperance,  or  carried  into  the  world 
with  him  some  hereditary  taint)  in  which  all  the  functions  of  the  body 
are  so  nicely  balanced,  that  no  one  interferes  with  another.  The  cir- 
culation in  the  heart  does'  not  disturb  the  respiration  in  the  lungs — 
digestion  is  performed  without  the  slightest  consciousness — sleep  is  a 
temporary  death  without  dying — and  man  springs  from  his  couch  with 
keen  appetite  for  food,  and  inextinguishable  energies  for  mental  or  cor- 
poreal exertion.  The  organs  of  supply  are  now  more  than  able  to  com- 
pensate for  the  waste  occasioned  by  the  ordinary  wear  and  tear  of  life  ; 
— because  the  machine  has  ceased  to  make  demands  for  additional 
growth.  Hence  it  is  that  we  are  capable,  during  the  fifth  and  sixth 
Septenniads,  of  undergoing  fatigues  of  body  and  exertions  of  mind  that 
would  be  ruinous  to  health,  either  before  or  after  those  epochs  of  exis- 
tence. 

It  is  between  the  limits  of  28  and  42,  most  unquestionably,  that  the 
mightiest  exploits  of  corporeal  strength  have  been  performed  ; but,  for 
reasons  which  will  presently  appear,  it  may  not  always  have  been  within 
the  said  limits,  that  the  noblest  effusions  of  intellect  radiated  from  the 
human  mind.  The  doctrine  that  the  powers  of  the  soul  and  of  the  body 
rise,  acquire  maturity,  and  decay  together,  has  created  great  and  unne- 
cessary alarm  in  weak  minds,  tending,  as  it  is  supposed,  towards  ma- 
terialism. The  parallel  does  noffrun  straight  between  mind  and  body 
generally — but  only  between  the  manifestations  of  mind,  and  that  organ 
through  which  the  manifestations  are  destined  to  be  made,  by  the  Divine 
Architect : — namely,  the  brain.  No  one  will  now  deny  that  the  brain 
is  the  material  organ  of  the  mind — and  no  one  will  contend  that  the  two 
are  identical.  The  eye  is  not  the  function  or  faculty  of  sight,  though 
it  is  the  only  organ  by  which  sight  can  be  effected.  No  one  would  be 
so  insane  as  to  suppose  that  the  eye,  or  the  optic  nerve,  or  even  the  por- 
tion of  brain  with  which  the  optic  nerve  communicates,  can  see  ; — all 
these  parts  are  only  the  material  instruments  by  which  external  images 
are  conveyed  to  the  common  sensory  of  the  soul — which  sensory  is 
itself  but  an  instrument.  The  same  observations  apply  to  all  the  other 


80 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


senses,  as  hearing,  smelling,  taste,  &c.  And  if  they  apply  to  these,  how 
much  more  strongly  do  they  apply  to  the  higher  faculties  of  the  mind  ! 
Can  the  brain  think  or  reflect  ? Just  as  much  as  the  coats  or  humours 
of  the  eye,  the  retina,  the  optic  nerve,  or  the  thalamus  nervi  optici  can 
see  or  judge  of  colours.  The  brain  is  as  much  the  instrument  of  the 
mind  in  thought,  as  the  eye  is  the  organ  of  vision.  The  brain,  in  the 
act  of  perception  or  volition,  is  as  passive  and  unconscious  an  instrument, 
as  the  telegraph  that  conveys  information  from  Portsmouth  to  the  Ad- 
miralty, or  instructions  from  the  Admiralty  to  Portsmouth. 

If  certain  portions  of  the  brain  be  injured,  certain  faculties  of  the  mind 
will  be  impaired — if  the  whole  of  the  material  organ  be  diseased  or  dis- 
ordered, the  whole  of  the  mental  faculties  will  be  deranged — if  the  brain 
be  destroyed,  the  soul  can  be  no  longer  manifested  in  this  world.* 

If  the  dread  of  materialism  was  great  because  the  manifestations  of 
mind  were  said  to  be  dependent  on  the  state  of  the  brain,  that  dread 
was  much  increased,  when  the  phrenologists  began  to  allot  certain  or- 
gans or  portions  of  the  brain  for  the  manifestatian  of  certain  faculties  of 
the  mind.  But,  as  it  is  now  universally  allowed  that  the  brain  is  the 
organ  of  the  mind,  there  can  be  no  increase  of  materialism  in  dividing  it 
into  a series  of  organs.  Before  the  anatomist  explored  the  human  body, 
there  could  but  one  conclusion  be  drawn,  namely,  that  the  various  func- 
tions were  peformed  by  the  body  generally.  Dissection,  however,  dis- 
covered various  organs  in  the  body,  each  graving  its  own  peculiar  func- 
tion. In  the  brain,  we  find  a great  number  of  curiously  and  differently 
constructed  parts  : in  the  mind,  a great  number  of  different  faculties. 
What  is  the  rational  inference  ? The  different  parts  were  constructed 
by  the  wise  Creator,  for  the  performance  of  different  functions.  If  all 
parts  of  the  brain  were  equally  qualified  to  manifest  all  the  mental  fa- 
culties, why  was  it  constructed  of  such  a multitude  of  different  parts  ?f 
We  never  see  Nature  take  such  unnecessary  pains.  But  we  have  proof 
that  certain  portions  of  the  brain  have  particular  functions.  Thus,  let 
a certain  part  of  the  organ  be  injured  by  disease,  and  the  faculty  of  sight 


* The  same  holds  good  with  respect  to  every  other  organ.  Impair  the  coats,  hu- 
mours, or  nerves  of  the  eye,  and  the  faculty  of  vision  will  be  proportionally  impaired. 
Destroy  any  or  all  of  them,  and  sight  is  lost. 

•f*  If  all  parts  of  the  brain  were  engaged  in  every  mental  operation,  how  could  two 
or  more  different  intellectual  operations  be  carried  on  simultaneously  ? The  thing  is 
impossible. 


PH  RENOLOG Y. 


81 


is  lost  in  the  corresponding  eye — and  so  on  of  all  the  other  senses. 
Now,  if  there  be  organs  allotted  for  the  perception  of  external  things, 
why  should  not  there  be  organs  for  reflection , volition , and  the  various 
faculties  of  the  mind  ?* 

The  principles  of  phrenology  may  be,  then,  and  I believe  are,  correct ; 
though  the  details,  or  many  of  the  applications  of  the  doctrine  may  be 
wrong.  That  the  brain  is  a congeries  of  organs,  we  have  the  evidence 
of  our  own  senses — that  these  organs  are  destined  for  separate  and  dif- 
ferent functions,  we  have  proofs  in  several  instances,  and  strong  analo- 
gical reasons  for  believing  in  others. 

That  the  doctrine  of  a plurality  of  organs  for  the  manifestation  of 
several  faculties  of  the  mind,  should  favour  materialism  more  than  the 
doctrine  of  one  organ  for  all  the  faculties,  is  so  utterly  absurd  as  to  be 
entirely  unworthy  of  notice ; — nor  can  I see  that  the  said  doctrine 
weakens,  in  the  slightest  degree,  any  moral  or  religious  precept.  Sup- 
pose it  were  asserted  by  a phrenologist  that  there  is  an  organ  of 
destructiveness,  and  that  the  greater  development  of  that  organ  in 
one  individual  than  in  another,  indicated  a greater  propensity  to  cruelty 
in  that  one  than  in  the  other — does  this  doctrine  diminish  the  respon- 
sibility for  the  crime  of  cruelty  or  murder,  or  the  necessity  for  con- 
trolling that  bad  disposition,  any  more  than  the  doctrine  of  propensity 
to  cruelty  in  the  mind  itself — a doctrine  which  no  antiphrenologist  will 
deny  ? If  a man  should  claim  an  excuse  for  crime,  because  he  has  an 
organ  of  criminality  in  his  brain,  another  may  claim,  with  equal  justice, 
an  irresponsibility,  because  he  has  a propensity  to  crime  in  his  mind ! 
But  there  are  good  and  bad  organs  in  the  brain,  as  well  as  good  and  bad 
propensities  in  the  mind ; and  the  obligations  we  are  under  for  culti- 
vating the  good  and  controlling  the  evil,  are  just  as  great  in  the  scheme 


* This,  indeed,  is  all  but  proved  by  the  fact  that,  in  the  same  filament  or  bundle 
of  nervous  filaments,  some  of  the  nervous  fibres  (if  we  may  use  the  term)  are  des- 
tined for  transmitting  impressions  from  the  external  world  to  the  mind — while  others, 
in  the  same  pacquet,  are  employed  in  a totally  different  office,  the  conveyance  of 
orders  from  the  mind  to  the  muscles.  In  other  wTords,  the  same  sheath  binds  up  two 
nerves,  apparently  similar,  yet  one  is  for  perception  and  the  other  for  volition  ! If 
this  be  the  case  in  the  nerves,  which  are  prolongations  of  the  brain,  who  can  doubt 
that  the  same  diversity  of  function  obtains  in  different  parts  of  the  brain  itself?  It 
was  only  by  detecting  the  different  functions  of  the  two  nerves  in  one  sheath,  that 
their  different  natures  were  ascertained.  The  eye  could  not  recognize  one  from  the 
other ; so  it  is  with  the  organs  of  the  brain. 


M 


82 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


of  phrenology,  as  in  the  systems  of  ethics  and  religion  established 
before  phrenology  was  heard  of. 

But  there  are  one  or  two  other  considerations  which  may  tend  to 
dispel  the  fears  of  the  Christian,  and  diminish  the  importance  of  the 
phrenologist.  The  grand  principle  of  phrenology  is,  to  trace  the  corres- 
pondence between  propensities  of  the  mind  and  prominences  in  the 
head.  The  material  organs  could  only  be  ascertained  by  comparing 
them  with  the  mental  faculties  or  dispositions  of  the  individual.*  The 
phrenologist  does  not  maintain  that  the  organ  is  the  cause  of  the  faculty 
or  propensity  of  the  mind.  He  might  as  well  say  that  the  brain  is  the 
cause  of  the  mind  (instead  of  being  its  instrument ),  as  to  say  that  par- 
ticular parts  of  the  brain  are  the  causes  of  particular  propensities . Such 
reasoning  would  be  the  very  worst  species  of  materialism,  and  do  away 
with  all  moral  responsibility.  But  each  particular  organ  of  the  brain  is 
as  much  the  instrument  of  each  particular  faculty  or  propensity,  as  the 
brain,  or  aggregate  of  the  organs,  is  the  general  medium  of  manifes- 
tation— or,  in  other  words,  the  general  instrument  of  the  mind.  Now 
let  us  apply  the  doctrine  to  practice.  Suppose  an  individual  discovers 
that  he  has  a prominently  bad  organ,  and  a prominently  evil  propensity  ? 
— What  is  he  to  do  ? He  cannot  compress  the  organ  into  smaller  space  ; 
and  therefore  he  ought  to  control  the  evil  propensity . The  knowledge 
of  the  evil  propensity  renders  the  knowledge  of  the  bad  organ  of  little 
use.  Then  which  of  the  two  investigations  is  the  easiest  ? I imagine 


* This  was  the  process  by  which  Gall  arrived  at  his  conclusions.  He  did  not 
trace  the  faculties  from  their  organs,  but  the  organs  from  their  faculties.  Thus  he 
was  much  struck  with  the  powers  of  some  people’s  memories,  and  ultimately  dis- 
covered that  they  had  prominent  eyes.  He  afterwards  traced  this  connexion  or 
correspondence  between  retentive  memories  and  prominent  eyes  generally,  so  as  to 
establish  a kind  of  principle.  But  he  never  appears  to  have  taken  the  physical  pro- 
minence first,  and  afterwards  traced  its  phrenological  character. 

“ He  did  not,  as  many  have  imagined,  first  dissect  the  brain,  and  pretend,  by  that 
means,  to  have  discovered  the  seats  of  the  mental  powers ; on  the  contrary,  he  first 
observed  a concomitance  between  particular  talents  and  dispositions  and  particular 
forms  of  the  head.”—  Coombe. 

This  was  .the  true,  as  well  as  the  original  path  of  investigation.  Deviation  from  it 
was  the  rock  on  which  too  many  phrenologists  have  split  The  practice  of  first 
ascertaining  the  faculties  and  propensities,  and  then  remarking  the  organization, 
should  have  been  followed  for  a century  or  more.  The  phrenologists  forsook  this 
path,  and  from  too  limited  a number  of  facts,  proceeded  to  reverse  the  order  of  in- 
vestigation, and  to  predicate  character  of  mind  by  dimensions  of  brain  ! The  con- 
sequences have  been  such  as  any  reasonable  man  might  expect. 


PHRENOLOGY. 


83 


that  it  is  much  more  easy,  and  also  much  more  safe,  to  ascertain  our 
own  evil  propensities,  than  the  prominences  of  our  heads  which  are 
indicative  of  them.  It  requires  great  phrenological  accuracy  to  deter- 
mine the  organ,  by  measuring  the  skull — but  no  great  discrimination  to 
ascertain  the  faculty  or  propensity  of  the  mind  by  attention  to  our  own 
dispositions. 

As  far,  then,  as  the  study  of  ourselves  is  concerned,  phrenology  ap- 
pears to  be  nearly  a work  of  supererogation.  It  is  like  examining  with 
a microscope  the  papillae  of  the  tongue,  in  order  to  ascertain  whether  or 
not  we  possess  the  sense  of  taste,  when  the  question  may  be  solved  in 
an  instant  by  eating  an  orange.  It  is  like  examining  the  eye  in  a mirror 
to  ascertain  the  sense  of  sight — the  possession  or  loss  of  which  we 
must  have  long  been  aware  of.  Who  would  go  to  Stevenson  or  Curtis 
to  have  his  ears  probed,  and  to  learn  from  these  aurists  whether  or  not 
he  had  the  faculty  of  hearing  ? But,  suppose  a man  discovers  a promi- 
nent organ — say  combativeness — the  corresponding  propensity  of  which 
he  was  unconscious  of  before.  What  follows  ? Will  this  discovery 
call  into  activity  the  dormant  propensity  ?*  Will  it  make  him  more 
brave  ? Will  it  render  him  more  quarrelsome  ? If  the  propensity  did 
exist,  he  must  have  known  it — or,  at  all  events,  he  might  soon  discover 
it,  if  he  sought  it : — and  the  discovery  of  the  propensity  itself  renders  a 
discovery  of  its  organ  or  instrument  a matter  of  curiosity  rather  than  of 
utility. 

Thus,  then,  it  appears  to  me  that  auto-phrenology,  or  the  study  of 
our  own  minds,  may  be  successfully  and  safely  cultivated  without  refer- 
ence to  the  material  organ  of  the  mind — and  that  this  applies  to  each 
particular  faculty  or  propensity,  and  its  material  instrument,  as  well  as 
to  the  whole  brain  collectively. 

The  question  is  different,  however,  when  we  come  to  examine  the 
faculties  and  propensities  of  our  neighbours.  In  this  case,  if  the  science 
of  phrenology  be  exact,  and  if  the  phrenologist  be  master  of  his  art,  a 
man’s  dispositions  may  be  ascertained  by  a careful  scrutiny  of  his  head. 
Leaving  the  uncertainty  of  a science,  which  is  yet  in  its  infancy,  out  of 
sight,  it  is  evident  that  the  application  of  phrenological  canons  to  society 
in  general,  must  always  be  on  a very  limited  scale.  People  will  not 


* Can  the  propensity  lie  dormant  while  the  organ  is  prominent  ? If  so,  phre- 
nology is  uncertain. 


84 


ECONOMY  OP  HEALTH, 


subject  their  heads  to  the  calipers  of  the  curious — especially  if  they  have 
any  propensities  or  dispositions  which  they  wish  to  conceal and  few, 

I believe,  could  look  inwards  upon  their  own  hearts,  without  a sus- 
picion that  phrenology,  if  a true  science,  might  make  inconvenient  dis- 
coveries on  their  heads.  Thus,  then,  the  application  of  phrenology  to 
adults  is  likely  to  remain  a dead-letter,  or  nearly  so. 

The  most  feasible  exercise  of  the  new  science  is  on  the  heads  of 
children,  with  the  view  of  determining  their  dispositions,  propensities, 
and  capacities.  I think  the  phrenologist  takes  upon  him  a tremendous 
responsibility  in  predicating  the  mental  character  of  the  man  by  mea- 
suring the  brain  of  the  child.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  propen- 
sities, in  this  case,  have  not  yet  developed  themselves,  and  consequently, 
that  their  material  organs  or  instruments  have  acquired  no  dimensions 
beyond  those  which  the  hand  of  Nature  gave  them. 

It  is  well  known  that  all  organs,  of  the  body  generally,  perhaps 
of  the  brain  itself,  acquire  force,  and  even  size,  in  proportion  as  they 
are  exercised.  But  the  instruments  or  organs  of  intellect  being  hardly 
at  all  exercised  in  infancy,  it  must  be  a most  dangerous  as  well  as 
difficult  task,  to  estimate  the  propensities  which  are  yet  in  abeyance. 
When  a brain  was  presented  to  Dr.  Spurzheim — and,  consequently, 
when  the  actual  organs  of  the  mind  were  laid  bare  before  him,  without 
any  of  the  embarrassments  which  the  skull  might  occasion  ; — and  he 
was  asked  to  form  an  estimate  of  the  mental  characters  of  the  individual 
— what  was  his  observation  ? He  said  “ the  experiment  was  not  a fair 
one,  inasmuch  as  he  was  not  acquainted  with  the  state  of  health,  con- 
stitution, or  education,  of  the  individual,  all  of  which  it  was  essential  for 
him  to  he  aware  of,  before  drawing  positive  inferences.”* 

It  is  true  that  Dr.  Spurzheim  did  venture  to  give  an  opinion  of  the 
individual’s  character,  from  some  remarkable  phenomena  in  the  cerebel- 
lum and  back  parts  of  the  brain — and  he  appears  to  have  guessed  right. 
But  when  we  have  the  authority  of  one  of  the  founders  of  phrenology 
that,  without  a knowledge  of  the  health,  constitution,  and  education  of 
the  person,  wre  can  draw  no  positive  inferences,  how  can  we  attach  much 
importance  to  the  examination  of  children’s  heads,  before  the  education 
has  well  commenced — before  the  constitution  is  adjusted — and  before 
many  of  the  faculties  and  propensities  have  even  dawned  ? 


Dr.  Coombe  on  Insanity. 


POWERS  OK  THE  MIND. 


85 


One  of  the  surest  modes  of  investigating  the  connexion  between  cer- 
tain portions  of  the  brain  and  the  corresponding  faculties  of  the  mind, 
would  be  through  the  medium  of  pathology — namely,  by  comparing 
disease  in  the  organ  with  disordered  manifestation  of  the  intellect. 
This  is  rendered  exceedingly  difficult  in  consequence  of  the  brain  being 
double.  Thus  unless  the  two  organs — say  of  combativeness — be  in- 
jured, we  cannot  discover  the  loss  of  function  in  one.  Monomania,  or 
mental  derangement  on  a single  topic,  would  seem  to  promise  interest- 
ing discoveries  in  this  respect ; but  although  we  are  confident  that  in- 
sanity, whether  general  or  partial,  is  always  occasioned  by  some  dis- 
order or  disease  of  organization — especially  of  the  brain,  yet,  unfortu- 
nately, the  traces  of  these  functional  disorders  or  structural  changes  in 
the  organ  of  the  mind,  cannot  always  be  found  after  death,  or  they  are 
so  mixed  up  with  other  lesions  that  we  are  often  left  in  the  dark,  on 
the  subject  of  phrenology.  Still,  with  all  these  disadvantages,  insanity 
affords  the  strongest  proofs  of  the  truth  of  phrenology,  while  phreno- 
logy offers  the  most  rational  explanation  of  insanity. 

This  short  digression  on  phrenology  is  not  designed  to  discourage  the 
study  of  a science,  whose  leading  principles  I believe  to  be  founded  in 
truth  ; but  to  check  the  extravagant  expectations  of  enthusiasts,  and, 
what  is  worse,  the  confident  assertions  of  sciolists.  The  study  of 
phrenology  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  that  can  be  undertaken  by  man, 
and  no  predications  are  at  all  worthy  of  credence,  except  from  those 
who  have  devoted  years  to  the  investigation. 

I have  hinted,  a few  pages  back,  that,  although  the  mental  and  cor- 
poreal powers  attain  their  acme  in  the  fifth  and  sixth  Septenniads,  the 
intellect  may  yet  display  greater  prodigies  after  the  completion  of  that 
period,  than  it  could  have  done  during  the  golden  sera  of  moral  and 
physical  perfection.  The  reason  of  this  is  obvious.  The  mind  con- 
tinues to  acquire  knowledge  long  after  the  body  has  ceased  to  gain 
strength.  And  although  certain  powers  of  the  intellect,  as  memory, 
imagination,  or  even  perception,  may  be  on  the  decline,  yet  the  accu- 
mulated materials  in  the  granary  of  the  mind,  may,  and  often  do,  enable 
it  to  construct  edifices  of  nobler  dimensions  and  more  durable  architec- 
ture, than  at  earlier  and  more  vigorous  epochs  of  life. 

It  wras  in  the  Golden  Septenniad  that  the  Bard  of  Avon — 

“ Exhausted  worlds  and  then  imagined  new.” 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


86 

The  almost  supernatural  genius  of  Shakespeare,  as  exhibited  in  his  works, 
the  first  of  which  (Romeo  and  Juliet)  appeared  when  the  author  was 
in  his  33rd  year,  renders  us  sceptical  as  to  the  possibility  of  that 
genius  being  surpassed  after  the  turn  of  life.  It  was  in  the  fifth  or  sixth 
Septenniad  that  “ Waverly”  was  executed — and  no  one  will  contend 
that  it  was  excelled  by  any  of  its  successors.  After  the  meridian  Sep- 
tenniads,  indeed,  the  Wizard  of  the  North  exhibited  a sad  falling  off — 
more,  however,  from  premature  exhaustion  of  the  intellectual  powers 
by  inordinate  labour,  than  from  a natural  decline  of  the  mental  ener- 
gies. “ Childe  Harold”  was  born  even  before  the  “ Golden  HCra” 
commenced,  and  was  scarcely  excelled  by  any  subsequent  production  of 
Byron’s  gigantic  intellect ! 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  however,  that,  in  the  productions  of  these 
master  minds,  imagination  was  the  grand  agent — a faculty  which  is 
early  developed,  and  among  the  first  to  feel  the  withering  hand  of  Time. 
Yet  even  here,  we  have  ample  evidence  that  the  powers  of  the  mind  are 
far  more  slow  to  decay  than  those  of  the  body.  Milton  composed  his 
“ Paradise  Lost,”  long  after  the  meridian  of  life  had  passed  away,  and 
when  the  author  was  entering  his  ninth  Septenniad  ! ! Johnson  com- 
posed his  Rasselas  in  one  week,  and  under  the  pressure  of  affliction, 
at  the  age  of  fifty. 

But  let  us  look  to  another  class  of  towering  intellects — those  who 
have  built  up  imperishable  truths  on  immutable  bases — who  have  dealt 
in  facts  rather  than  in  fictions — who  have  exercised  the  judgment  more 
than  the  imagination.  Bacon,  Newton,  Locke,  Linnaeus,  &c.  &c. 
afford  striking  illustrations.  The  “ Father  of  Philosophy”  brought  forth 
his  “ Novum  Organon”  in  the  fifty-ninth  year  of  his  age — at  a 
time  when  Aristotle  had  obtained  supreme  authority  in  the  schools,  and 
when  men,  lost  in  a labyrinth  of  definitions,  distinctions,  and  disputa- 
tions, wasted  their  time  in  barren  and  useless  speculations — " when 
there  still  was  wanted  a comprehensive  mind  which  could  survey  the 
whole  region  of  science  ; — examine  the  foundations  of  systems  of  phi- 
losophy that  palsied  the  progress  of  society — and  suggest  a more  sure 
and  advantageous  mode  of  cultivating  knowledge.  Such  a commanding 
genius  was  Bacon,  and  such  the  grand  plan  W'hich  he  executed  in  his 
r jnstauration  of  the  sciences.’  The  eternally  increasing  pile  of 
natural  knowledge,  which  philosophers  (following  his  method  of  ex- 
perimental investigation)  have  been  able  to  raise,  is  an  imperishable 
monument  to  his  memory.” 


POWERS  OP  THE  MIND  IN  DIFFERENT  PERIODS  OF  LIFE.  8/ 

The  father  of  the  exact  sciences — the  immortal  Newton,  issued  to 
the  world  his  “ Principia”  in  the  last  year  of  the  “ Golden  H£ra”  of 
human  life,  viz.  at  the  age  of  41  ; — but  such  was  the  vigour  of  his 
intellect  that,  in  his  73d  year,  he  solved,  in  one  evening,  and  as  a matter 
of  amusement,  the  famous  problem  of  the  trajectories — the  most 
difficult  task  which  Leibnitz,  in  envy,  could  devise  ! 

It  was  three  years  after  the  “ decline  of  life,”  according  to  Dr.  John- 
son’s estimate — namely,  in  the  38th  year  of  his  age,  that  the  celebrated 
Locke,  “ began  to  form  the  plan  of  his  Essay  on  Human  Understand- 
ing”— which  work  did  not  see  the  light  for  20  years  afterwards,  and 
consequently  till  the  author  had  advanced  into  his  ninth  Septenniad. 
However  derogatory  ikwas  to  the  then  heads  of  colleges  in  Oxford,  that 
they  should  have  endeavoured  to  suppress  the  treatise  on  understanding, 
few  will  now  consider  the  Essay  as  indicative  of  any  decay  of  intellect 
in  its  immortal  author  ! Linnaeus,  the  celebrated  naturalist,  published 
his  “ Species  Plantarum,”  characterized  by  Haller  as  his  “ Maximum 
Opus  et  yEternum,”  in  the  46th  year  of  his  age,  and  consequently  after 
the  expiration  of  the  Golden  ^Era. 

Volumes  indeed  might  be  filled  with  the  prodigies  performed  by  the 
mind  long  after  the  body  had  declined  from  the  meridian,  and  even 
descended  far  into  the  vale  of  years,  proving,  beyond  a doubt,  that  the 
powers  of  the  mind  and  of  the  body  do  not  run  quite  so  parallel,  in  their 
rise,  progress,  or  decadence,  as  the  materialists  assert.  The  reason  -why 
the  mind  can  put  forth  gigantic  energies,  and  perform  prodigies  after  the 
body  has  become  greatly  deteriorated,  appears  to  be  this : — After  a certain 
age — say  30  years — the  body  cannot  increase  in  strength,  or  improve 
in  any  of  its  functions  ; but  the  mind  is  daily  and  hourly  furnishing  it- 
self with  knowledge,  which  is  power,  for  twenty  or  thirty  years  sub- 
sequently. With  these  accumulated  materials,  the  intellect  is  enabled 
to  erect  imperishable  memorials  of  its  acquirements , when  the  body  is 
tottering  on  the  verge  of  the  grave.  But  let  it  not  be  imagined  that 
these  mental  monuments  are  the  products  of  mental  powers  that  have 
gone  on  increasing  with  years.  Far  from  it.  They  are  the  results  of 
accumulated  stores  in  the  emporium  of  the  soul,  while  the  powers  of 
using  them  have  been  gradually  declining ! If  the  man  of  30  years 
possessed  the  knowledge  and  experience  of  him  who  has  attained  the 
age  of  50 — and  with  equal  talents — he  would  be  able  to  erect  far  more 
splendid  trophies  of  intellectual  prowess  than  the  senior  in  years.  The 


86 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


true  and  practical  inference  is  this  : — if  we  hope  to  send  forth  corrus- 
cations  of  mind  in  advanced  age,  we  must  charge  the  electric  battery 
(the  mind’s  material  organ)  in  the  prime  of  life.  He  who  attempts,  in 
the  vale  of  years,  to  astonish  the  world  with  the  elaboration  of  know- 
ledge, acquired  after  the  completion  of  his  sixth  Septenniad  (42) — and 
with  energies  of  mind  not  exerted  strenuously  before  that  epoch,  will 
find  himself  lamentably  disappointed. 

It  is  in  the  fifth  Septenniad  that  the  emulation  of  youth  gradually 
slides  into  the  ambition  of  manhood.  The  change  is  so  gradual  as  to 
be  scarcely  perceptible — like  the  mutations  of  figures  in  the  magic 
lantern,  or  the  transformations  which  fancy  loves  to  trace  in  the  moving 
panorama  of  clouds  on  a Summer’s  eve.  That  which  was  in  early  life 
only  a laudable  desire  to  excel  in  literature,  arts,  science,  or  manly  ex- 
ercises, becomes,  in  manhood,  a passion  for  outstripping  and  eclipsing 
our  neighbours,  in  rank,  wealth,  estimation,  power,  and  all  the  thousand 
objects,  paths,  and  pursuits  of  ambition  ! This  passion,  wisely  con- 
ferred on  man,  no  doubt,  though  too  often  unwisely  exercised,  has  been 
differently  viewed  by  different  philosophers.  By  some  it  has  been  de- 
duced from  Heaven  itself — and  represented  as  glowing  in  the  breasts 
of  kings  and  heroes.  This,  however,  was  not  the  sentiment  of  a man 
who  climbed  all  its  giddy  heights — fathomed  all  its  treacherous  depths 
— and  tasted  all  its  dangerous  sweets  ! 

“ Cromwell  I charge  thee  fling  away  ambition  ! 

By  that  sin  fell  the  Angels !” 

The  Hero  of  Macedon  found  the  reward  of  his  ambition  in  the  Granicus 
— Hannibal  in  exile — Csesar  in  the  senate — Sidney  on  the  scaffold  ! 
Sweden’s  “ mad  Monarch”  touched  the  goal  of  his  ambition  at  Pultowa 
— Wolsey  in  disgrace — Napoleon  in  captivity  ! 

Ten  thousand  illustrious  victims  of  ambition  might  be  cited — whose 
shades  may  possibly  be  soothed  by  the  celebrity  of  their  fates : — but 
who  could  number  the  myriads  who  have  fallen  sacrifices  at  the  shrine 
of  this  passion,  without  the  consolation  of  sympathy  from  friends,  or 
the  honour  of  record  in  history  ! In  every  gradation  of  society,  from 
the  minister,  who  steers  the  vessel  of  state,  down  to  the  reckless  driver 
of  the  cab  or  the  omnibus,  ambition,  in  one  or  other  of  its  proteian 
shapes,  is  the  ruling  passion  that  too  often  destroys  the  body  and  en- 
dangers the  soul.  Metaphysicians  and  phrenologists  have  divided  and 
subdivided  the  passions  and  propensities  rather  too  minutely,  and  deno- 


EMULATION  AND  AMBITION. 


89 


minated  them  somewhat  capriciously.  It  is  not  a little  extraordinary 
that,  while  the  phrenologists  have  given  us  organs  for  constructiveness, 
wonder,  individuality,  colouring,  locality , eventuality,  causality,  &c.  &c. 
they  should  have  discovered  no  organ  for  ambition,  which,  is  not  only 
the  most  prominent,  but  the  most  predominant  passion  of  the  soul, 
especially  during  the  golden  asra  of  life.  It  is  futile  to  tell  us,  that 
ambition  is  merely  the  abuse  of  some  minor  passion  or  propensity,  as 
of  self-love.  Ambition  is  a master  principle  or  passion  in  mental 
philosophy,  and  not  a subordinate  one.  It  is  the  parent  and  not  the 
progeny  of  many  leading  propensities,  honoured  with  distinct  organs  in 
the  brain,  by  phrenologists.  It  is  the  impelling  power  which  leads  (or 
drives)  to  distinction  in  the  senate,  the  bar,  the  pulpit,  the  college,  the 
hall,  the  stage,  and  the  field  of  battle. — These  are  the  prominent,  but 
not  the  principal  theatres  on  which  ambition  acts  its  various  parts. 
Many  of  those  passions  and  propensities  which  are  known  under  very 
different  appellations,  are  ambition  in  disguise.  Thus  competition,  a 
passion  which  agitates  the  universal  mass  of  mankind,  is  the  ambition 
of  ordinary  life.  In  the  “ breasts  of  kings  and  heroes,”  indeed,  it  takes 
the  latter  title,  as  more  lofty  and  dignified ; but,  from  these  exalted 
personages,  downwards,  through  the  vast  chain  of  human  society,  the 
same  passion  goes  under  the  humbler  title  of  competition.  What  is 
ostentation,  in  either  sex,  but  the  ambition  of  surpassing  our  neigh- 
bours, or  equalling  our  superiors,  in  pomp  and  show  ? Pride  itself  is 
often  nothing  else  than  ambition,  gratified  and  elated  by  the  supposi- 
tion, whether  well  or  ill-founded,  that  the  individual  is  superior  in  per- 
sonal importance,  rank,  riches,  attainments,  or  other  circumstances,  to 
the  generality  of  mankind.  Vanity  is  only  a lower  grade  of  pride. 

The  “ love  of  praise  or  fame,”  which  has  been  considered  by  some 
philosophers  as  almost  a universal  passion,  is,  in  reality,  the  ambition 
of  rising  higher  than  others  in  the  world’s  estimation.  One  of  John- 
son’s definitions  of  ambition  runs  thus  : — “ going  about  with  studious- 
ness to  obtain  praise.”  In  fine,  that  it  is  the  most  generally  diffused, 
and  powerfully  operative  passion  or  propensity  in  the  human  breast,  I 
appeal  to  a careful  analysis  of  the  human  mind  itself.  The  leading 
definition  of  the  great  Lexicographer  will  strikingly  corroborate  this 
assertion.  “ Ambition  ; the  desire  of  something  higher  than  is  pos- 
sessed at  present.”  I apprehend  that  the  most  rigid  scrutiny  of  every 
nation  and  of  every  individual  on  the  earth’s  surface,  would  fail  to 


N 


90 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


discover  a single  human  being  who  did  not  answer  to  the  above  defi- 
nition. The  discontent  with  our  present  situation,  and  the  desire  of 
improving  it,  have  been  the  themes  of  poets  and  philosophers,  from  the 
“ Nemo  Contentus”  of  the  Roman  Bard,  down  to  the  “ Essay  on  Man” 
of  the  Twickenham  Muse. 

That  an  organ  corresponding  with,  and  representative  of,  such  a 
prominent  and  paramount  propensity  of  the  human  mind,  should  remain 
unnoticed  and  undiscovered  by  the  phrenologists,  is  to  me,  most  inex- 
plicable, considering  the  talents  with  which  the  subject  has  been  inves- 
tigated, and  the  knowledge  of  human  nature  that  must  have  been 
possessed  by  the  inquirers.  Another  defect  in  phrenology  has  struck 
me  forcibly.  It  does  not  appear  to  me  that  the  phrenologists  have  paid 
sufficient  attention  to  the  progression  or  succession  of  the  propensities. 
Thus,  some  of  those  which  are  the  most  predominant,  at  one  period  of 
life,  are  nearly,  if  not  completely,  nul  or  void,  in  other  stages  of  ex- 
istence. The  passion  of  love,  in  its  usual  acceptation,  exists  not  in 
infancy  and  old  age,  though  the  organ  must  exist.  But  if  we  argue 
that  the  function  of  an  organ  in  the  brain  changes  with  time,  then  we 
have  a rational  explanation  of  phenomena  which  cannot  be  accounted 
for  on  any  other  theory. 

I have  already  hinted  that  the  emulation  of  youth  becomes  the 
ambition  of  middle  age.  It  is  highly  probable  that,  if  the  attendant 
moral  and  physical  circumstances  were  equal,  there  would  always  be 
found  a due  proportion  between  the  energies  of  these  two  passions — or 
rather  grades  of  the  same  passion,  as  developed  at  different  epochs  of 
existence.  There  are  exceptions  to  all  general  rules  ; but  they  are  often 
apparent  rather  than  real.  Thus  there  are  instances  on  record  where 
the  youth  has  displayed  no  ability,  but  rather  the  reverse,  and  yet  where 
the  man  has  subsequently  astonished  the  world  by  the  strength  or  bril- 
liancy of  his  intellect.  Dean  Swift  affords  the  illustration  which  serves 
as  the  text  for  the  advocates  of  this  argument.  Let  us  sift  it  a little. 
Swift  went  to  college,  and  there  he  cultivated  poetry  and  satire,  to  the 
entire  neglect  of  mathematics.  He  wras  rejected  at  his  examination, 
and  the  world  set  him  down  as  a dunce,  in  youth ! How  he  turned  out 
in  manhood,  need  not  be  told.  It  is  probable  that  all  the  exceptions  of 
this  kind  would  prove,  if  cautiously  investigated,  to  present  the  same 
results.  Every  one  who  is  at  all  conversant  with  human  nature,  will 
now  acknowledge  that  what  has  been  said  of  the  talent  for  poetry,  ap- 


EMULATION  AND  AMBITION. 


91 


plies  to  every  other  kind  of  talent.  “ Nascitur,  non  fit."  It  is  quite 
true,  as  Locke  has  said,  that  the  human  mind  (as  well  as  its  material 
organ,  the  brain)  is  devoid  of  innate  ideas,  and  like  a blank  sheet  of 
paper  at  birth.  All  ideas,  all  knowledge  must  be  subsequently  acquired 
through  the  medium  of  the  senses  and  reflection.  But  it  does  not  fol- 
low that,  because  all  these  sheets  are  blank,  they  are  all  equally  well 
calculated  for  acquiring  knowledge.  Far  from  it.  Some  of  them  are 
like  thick  Bath  post — others  like  thin  foolscap — and  many  of  them  re- 
semble common  blotting-paper,  incapable  of  retaining  or  exhibiting  any 
distinct  or  legible  impression  : — the  mind  and  its  organ  being,  in  fact,  a 
**  rudis  indigestaque  moles.” — This  part  of  the  subject,  in  fine,  may  be 
summed  up  in  a very  few  words,  though  it  has  occasioned  interminable 
discussions  among  metaphysicians.  The  qualities  of  our  minds,  or  rather 
of  the  material  organs  of  our  minds  are  hereditary,  or  born  with  us  ; but 
the  qualifications  or  acquirements  depend  on  ourselves  and  on  the  circum- 
stances in  which  we  are  accidentally  placed — men,  therefore,  are  not 
born  equal.  The  'powers  of  their  minds,  or  of  the  material  organs  of 
their  minds,  are  as  diversified  as  the  powers  of  their  bodies,  or  the  fea- 
tures of  their  faces.  If  many  are  born  with  constitutions  incapable  of 
lasting  more  than  a few  months  or  years ; so,  many  come  into  this 
world  with  minds,  or  organs  of  the  mind,  incapable  of  acquiring  more 
than  the  very  rudiments  of  knowledge — some,  even  without  that  slender 
capacity  ! 

But,  to  revert  to  the  analogy  between  emulation  in  youth  and  ambition 
in  age.  A volume  might  be  filled  with  proofs  of  this  analogy,  or  rather 
identity.  I will  only  cite  a very  few  illustrations  from  the  dead,  and 
from  the  living.  The  emulation  of  youth  which  led  Napoleon  to  dis- 
tinguish himself  from  his  fellow- students  in  Brienne,  swelled  into  that 
ambition,  afterwards,  which  urged  him  to  seize  the  sceptre  of  Europe, 
and  grasp  at  that  of  the  world.  The  laudability  of  the  emulation  cannot 
be  questioned.  That  of  the  ambition  is  another  thing.  The  latter  has 
furnished  the  most  striking  example  of  retributive  justice  which  the 
annals  of  the  world  bear  on  record. 

In  our  own  times,  that  emulation  which  won  a “ double  first”  at 
Oxford  for  a plebeian,  ripened  subsequently  into  that  ambition  which 
shrunk  not  from  wielding  the  destinies  of  the  most  powerful  nation  on 
this  globe.  In  both  cases,  the  talents  were  hereditary,  or,  at  all  events, 
congenital ; but  fate  threw  the  two  actors  upon  widely  different  theatres 
of  action. 


92 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


Be  it  remembeed,  however,  that  there  is  more  energy  of  talent  re- 
quired to  overcome  difficulties,  than  to  display  the  fruits  of  abilities  and 
acquirements  under  easy  circumstances.  Though  Peel  would  doubtless 
have  been  a great  man,  had  he  been  born  in  penury  ; yet  his  arrival  at 
half  his  present  eminence,  against  the  tide  of  adversity,  and  under  all 
the  disadvantages  of  the  “ res  angusta  domif  would  have  entitled  him 
to  double  his  present  credit. 

The  emulation  of  a “ Minor,”  at  Harrow,  stung  with  indignation 
by  wanton,  if  not  cruel  censure,  expanded  into  that  gigantic  poetical 
ambition,  which  spurned  mankind,  and  seemed  almost  to  become 
misanthropy ! That  emulation  which,  in  the  youthful  breast  of  a 
Brougham,  grasped  at  universal  knowledge,  boiled  forth  in  the  shape 
of  ambition,  in  riper  years ; and,  through  the  power  which  that 
knowledge  conferred  (combined  with  splendid  talents),  carried  the 
owner  forward  to  his  goal,  over  the  heads  of  a thousand  competitors, 
who  were  doomed  to  “ toil  after  him  in  vain.” 

These  four  illustrations — two  from  the  dead,  and  two  from  the  living 
— might  be  multiplied  ad  infinitum , and  easily  made  to  prove  several  pro- 
positions, but  especially  the  following,  viz. — First,  That  the  emulation  of 
youth  becomes  the  ambition  of  age ; — 2dly,  that  talent  is  not  developed 
at  any  period  of  life,  unless  it  has  existed  from  the  beginning — in  other 
words,  that  it  is  congenital,  and  not  acquired ; consequently  that  men 
are  not  born  equal  :* — thirdly,  that,  if  anything  be  entitled  to  the  deno- 
mination of  “ universal  passion,”  it  is  ambition,  taken  in  its  ex- 
tended sense — and,  if  so,  there  ought  to  be  an  appropriate  organ  for  this 
passion,  if  there  be  any  truth  in  phrenology. 

But  ambition,  as  has  been  already  hinted,  is  not  the  predominating 
impulse  in  every  bpoch  of  human  existence.  In  youth,  and  in  the  form 
of  emulation,  it  co-exists  with,  and  is  often  cast  in  the  shade  by,  love. 
In  the  Golden  H£ra  (28  to  42),  and  when  it  assumes  its  proper  form,  it  is 
still  in  competition  or  struggle  with  its  powerful  companion,  and  only 
begins  to  obtain  the  mastery  towards  the  close  of  the  period  in  question. 
Thus  it  may  be  laid  down  that,  at  28,  love  is  somewhat  stronger  than 
ambition — at  42,  weaker — at  35,  the  two  passions  are  antagonists  of 
nearly  equal  powers. 

But  love,  though  it  may  be  sometimes  a stronger  impulse  than 


* Equal  in  rights — but  not  in  capacities. 


MODERN  MALADIES THEIR  SOURC35S. 


93 


ambition,  is  not  so  universal.  Many  pass  through  life,  without  know- 
ing what  love  is — none  without  experiencing  ambition,  in  one  or  other 
of  its  multiform  shapes.  Be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  during  the  two  Golden 
Septenniads  of  life,  that  man,  in  every  gradation  of  society,  wThile 
aiming  at  the  objects  of  his  ambition,  whatever  they  may  be,  too  often 
loses  the  substance  in  grasping  at  the  shadow.  It  is  in  the  meridian 
of  his  mental  and  corporeal  powers,  that  the  lord  of  the  creation  can 
perceive  no  limits  to  their  duration  or  strength.  This 

“ Blindness  to  the  future  kindly  given,” 

is  not  always  wisely  exercised.  As  common  economy  is  most  advan- 
tageously practised  in  the  period  of  prosperity,  so,  the  economy  of 
health  is  most  beneficially  cultivated,  when  we  are  in  the  fullest  en- 
joyment of  that  blessing.  The  stings  of  unmerited  penury  are  blunted 
by  habits  of  previous  moderation — and  so  the  dangers  and  sufferings  of 
accidental  disease  are  obviated  or  mitigated  by  previous  attention  to 
temperance.  It  is  in  these  two  meridian  epochs,  however,  that  the  seeds 
of  various  diseases,  sown  at  much  earlier  periods,  now  take  on  activity 
of  growth,  and  bring  forth  their  bitter  fruits.  But,  independently  of 
these,  the  germs  of  many  new  afflictions,  hitherto  unknown  to  the  con- 
stitution, are  firmly  implanted,  and  soon  fructify  with  disastrous  fertility. 
That  dry-rot  of  the  human  frame,  consumption,  which  may  have  lain 
dormant  for  so  many  years,  is  frequently  called  into  action  about  the 
beginning  of  the  fifth  or  sixth  Septenniads,  by  causes  which  had  not 
previously  operated.  But  the  great  evil — the  root  of  innumerable  evils 
— the  proteiform  malady — dyspepsy — the  hydra-headed  monster  of 
countless  brood  and  Medusa  mien,  is  the  progeny  of  civilization — and  is 
much  more  indebted  for  its  existence  and  diffusion,  to  intellectual  refine- 
ment than  to  bodily  intemperance — in  other  words,  its  causes,  multi- 
farious as  they  are,  may  be  traced  far  more  frequently  to  anxieties,  cares, 
and  tribulations  of  mind,  than  to  improper  indulgences  of  the  palate 
or  senses.  This  “ nova  pestis”  was  unknown  to — or  so  rare  as  to  be 
undescribed  by,  our  ancestors.  This  assertion  need  not  stagger  us. 
All  diseases  are  the  creatures,  or  rather  the  creations  of  circumstances. 
Numerous  maladies  of  antiquity  have  disappeared  from  the  tablet  of 
nosology,  and  others  have  taken  their  place.  It  may  be  sufficient  to 
advert  to  syphilis  and  cholera,  no  authentic  types  of  which  can  be  found 
among  the  records  of  Greek  or  Roman  medicine.  To  come  nearer 


94 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


home  diseases  of  the  heart,  one  of  the  proteian  forms  of  the  malady 
under  consideration,  were  so  little  attended  to  before  the  French  revo- 
lution, as  to  be  scarcely  noticed  by  medical  writers.  The  portentous 
scenes  of  that  eventful  period,  called  forth  such  a multitude  of  examples 
of  this  fatal  disease,  that  a volume  was  soon  written  on  the  subject  by 
Corvisart — and  the  mental  excitation  that  has  ever  since  continued,  has 
kept  up  the  tendency  to  affections  of  the  heart,  which  are  now  amongst 
the  most  prominent  and  dreadful  of  human  afflictions  ! 

Dyspepsia,  then,  is  a comparatively  new  disease — because  its  sources 
are  now  multiplied  beyond  all  former  example.  The  observant  physi- 
cian has  better  opportunities  of  tracing  the  connexion  between  cause  and 
effect,  in  this  case,  than  any  other  enquirer  into  the  state  of  human  na- 
ture and  of  society.  His  observations,  therefore,  are  entitled  to  some 
attention. 

We  breathe  in  an  atmosphere  (speaking  somewhat  metaphorically)  so 
dense  from  the  pressure  of  redundant  population,  that  life  is  a kind  of 
instinctive  struggle  for  existence ! Compressing  or  compressed  by  others, 
the  range  for  individual  exertion  is  reduced  to  a very  narrow  compass, 
as  compared  with  that  which  our  forefathers  enjoyed.  But  the  smaller 
the  space  which  is  left  for  us  to  move  in,  the  greater  the  powder  that  is 
required  for  motion.  If  to  this  condition  of  society,  wrhich  may  be  con- 
sidered as  a state  of  rapid  transition  from  rarity  to  density,  we  add  the 
fact  that  there  is  a proportionate  increment  of  emulation,  ambition, 
competition,  and  even  contention,  diffused  throughout  all  ranks  and  clas- 
ses of  the  community,  we  shall  be  able  to  form  some  idea  of  the  detri- 
ment to  health  which  must  ensue  from  this  conflicting  turmoil ! 

Although  the  progressive  increase  of  population  would  naturally  and 
inevitably  tend  towTards  the  abovementioned  issue,  yet  there  has  been 
fused  into  this  redundancy  an  element  of  the  most  wonderful  and  active 
kind,  comparatively  dormant  in  all  preceding  times,  but  now  revolu- 
tionizing, with  irresistible  impetus,  the  whole  face  of  things  ! This  is 
knowledge — the  product  of  intellect — as  much  superior  to  physical 
force,  as  the  mind  is  more  noble  than  the  material  fabric  which  it  inha- 
bits. Whatever  relation  may  obtain  between  redundancy  of  population 
and  augmentation  of  knowledge,  in  respect  to  cause  and  effect,  one  thing 
is  clear,  that  there  is  very  little  proportion  in  the  rate  of  their  progres  • 
sion.  Thus,  if  the  number  of  inhabitants,  in  a towTn  or  country,  be 
found  to  double  in  a given  time,  it  may  safely  be  predicated  that  the 


MOD  E R N M A LA  1)  I ES K NOW  LEDGE. 


95 


amount  of  knowledge  will  quadruple,  at  the  very  least,  in  the  same  space. 
This  disproportion  is  not  likely  to  decrease,  but  the  contrary.  Various 
circumstances  combine  to  set  limits  to  population  ; but  the  products  of 
mind  are  not  so  easily  circumscribed.  Every  year,  every  day,  every 
hour,  opens  out  new  sources  of  knowledge,  and  multiplies  the  means  of 
diffusing  it.  Every  addition  to  our  stock  of  information  augments  our 
thirst  for  further  supplies.  Under  such  circumstances,  the  attempt  to 
stem  the  tide  of  intellectual  improvement  would  be  little  less  difficult 
than  to  roll  back  the  flood  of  the  Ganges  to  the  Himalayha  mountains. 
Every  rude  impediment  thrown  into  the  stream  of  intelligence,  with  the 
view  of  checking  its  velocity,  will  only  increase  its  force  and  render  it 
more  turbulent.  It  will  be  much  more  prudent  to  clear  its  bottom,  and 
widen  its  channel.  It  is  immaterial  how  rapid  may  be  the  current,  pro- 
vided it  is  made  to  run  smooth. 

This  torrent  of  the  mental  energies,  or,  as  has  been  quaintly  termed, 
this  “ march  of  intellect,”  leaves  no  class  of  society,  from  the  Mo- 
narch to  the  mechanic,  unaffected  or  stationary,  in  the  stream  of  human 
life,  though  some  are  much  more  under  its  influence  than  others.  Some 
are  volunteers — others  are  pressed  men.  Of  the  higher  orders,  many 
are  forced  into  the  vortex  by  pride — perhaps  by  shame  ; for  knowledge 
is  not  now  an  article  that  can  safely  be  contemned,  because  it  has  got 
among  the  vulgar.  The  majority,  however,  even  of  the  highest  in  the 
land,  seek  knowledge  from  a nobler  motive  than  the  fear  of  being  deemed 
ignorant.  They  woo  Science  for  its  own  sake.  But  the  great  mass  of 
mankind,  and  especially  those  connected  with  the  various  professions, 
writh  the  senate,  diplomacy,  arts,  and  arms — with  commerce,  manufac- 
tures, and  even  mechanics,  are  all  impelled  forward  into  the  current  of 
intellectual  improvement,  and  of  scientific  and  literary  acquirements,  by 
ambition,  competition — or  necessity.  Nor  let  this  last  species  of  sti- 
mulus be  despised.  It  has  led  to  wonderful,  not  to  say  glorious  results, 
in  all  ages  of  the  world. 

These  channels,  through  which  the  operations  of  intellect  flow,  have 
been  pointed  out  because  they  are  conduits  through  which  a host  of  new 
disorders  have  been  let  loose  on  society,  perplexing  to  the  physician,  and 
destructive  of  health  and  comfort,  to  an  extent  beyond  the  pow'er  of 
calculation  ! 

The  following  question  may,  very  naturally,  be  asked  here  : — How  is 
it,  if  refinement  of  civilization  and  intellectual  culture  have  brought  upon 


9(5 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


society  a new  and  most  extensive  class  of  maladies,  that  the  range  of 
human  existence  is  considerably  greater  than  before  the  introduction  of 
this  “ march  of  intellect,”  and  its  alleged  consequences  ? Though  this 
has  some  appearance  of  paradox,  it  is  very  easily  reconciled  with  the 
fact,  which  itself  is  undeniable.  It  does  not  follow  that  those  disorders 
which  assail  the  greatest  number  of  people,  should  produce  the  greatest 
degree  of  mortality.  Thus,  for  every  one  person  seized  with  epidemic 
cholera,  there  were  500  attacked  by  epidemic  influenza ; and  yet,  for 
every  one  death  from  the  latter  disease,  there  were  fifty  or  one  hundred 
from  the  former.  This  shews  that  certain  kinds  of  maladies  may  affect 
great  multitudes  of  people,  without  materially  abridging  the  span  of  hu- 
man life.  Let  us  suppose,  what  is  very  nearly  the  fact,  that  in  the  first 
quarter  of  the  18th  century,  the  annual  mortality  among  an  equal  num- 
ber of  people,  was  twenty  per  cent,  more  than  in  the  first  quarter  of  the 
present  century  ; — but  that,  per  contra,  the  annual  expenditure  of  drugs 
(still  on  equal  masses  of  the  community)  is  now  fifty  per  cent,  greater 
than  it  was  one  hundred  years  ago.  What  is  the  legitimate  inference 
which  we  ought  to  draw  from  this?  It  is,  that,  in  1736,  death  had 
more  annual  victims,  from  a given  number  of  the  population ; but,  in 
1836,  the  doctors  have  more  patients  among  the  same  number  of  the 
community.  In  other  words,  we  may  not  be  so  robust  a race  as  our 
forefathers,  and  yet  we  may  be  longer  lived. 

The  changes  which  time  has  made  on  the  whole  surface  of  the  coun- 
try— in  our  manners,  habits,  diet,  dress,  dwellings,  avocations — but 
above  all,  in  the  disproportioned  exertions  of  the  mind  (whether  joyous 
or  dolorous)  compared  with  those  of  the  body ; — these  changes,  I say, 
and  many  others  which  might  be  enumerated,  have  banished  some  dis- 
eases entirely — introduced  others,  de  novo — and  so  modified  all,  that 
half  of  them  would  not  now  be  recognized  by  Sydenham,  were  he  to 
rise  from  the  grave. 

These  maladies  of  the  body  clearly  illustrate  the  moral  or  mental 
causes  from  which  so  many  of  them  spring.  Thus  the  brain,  or  organ 
of  the  mind,  being  kept  in  a state  of  over-exertion  or  over-excitement, 
by  emulation,  competition,  ambition,  anxiety,  tribulation,  and  a thousand 
other  causes,  naturally  exhibits  the  effects  of  such  a condition  in  its  own 
functions,  or  in  the  functions  of  other  organs  with  which  it  is  linked  in 
the  strictest  bonds  of  sympathy.  Irritability  of  temper,  for  instance,  is 
among  the  first  links  in  the  chain  of  morbid  phenomena — and  it  is  no 


MODERN  MALADIES. 


97 


trifling  drop  of  misery  in  the  cup  of  life.  The  nerves,  which  may  be 
considered  as  prolongations  of  the  brain  itself,  come  next  into  play, 
and  are  the  seat  of  a host  of  what  are  called  nervous  complaints, 
nearly  unknown  to  our  forefathers.  Thus  the  long  train  of  painful 
sensations,  from  tic-douloureux,  down  to  the  most  obscure  feelings  of 
rheumatism,  constituting  a whole  class  of  modern  maladies,  under  the 
term  neuralgia,  are  developed  through  the  medium  of  the  brain  and 
nervous  system,  and  arise  from  the  causes  which  I have  been  tracing. 
Some  of  these  are  amongst  the  most  painful  afflictions  to  which  the 
human  frame  is  subject — and  although  they  do  not  always  proceed 
directly  from  moral  causes,  yet  most  of  them  originate  through  the 
medium  of  the  mind  operating  on  the  body,  and  deranging  some  of  its 
functions,  thus  indirectly  inducing  the  neuralgic  class  of  diseases. 
These,  in  themselves,  are  formidable  enough  ; but  they  are  much  more 
easily  borne  than  many  which  follow. 

It  is  not  a little  curious  that  those  organs  on  which  morbid  impres- 
sions, whether  moral  or  physical,  are  first  made,  are  not  always  the 
first  to  exhibit  the  effects  of  these  impressions.  Doubtless  they  do 
suffer  at  the  time ; but  the  phenomena  produced  by  these  causes  are 
seldom  noticed,  either  by  the  individual  or  his  friends.  It  is  in  those 
organs  or  parts  of  the  body  which  are  most  intimately  associated  with 
the  organ  of  the  mind  (the  brain)  that  the  consequences  of  moral  im- 
pressions are,  in  general,  first  observed — more  especially  the  digestive 
organs.  Thus  a man  experiences  a sudden  reverse  of  fortune,  or  a 
blight  of  ambition.  His  mind  may  appear  to  bear  the  shock  with  con- 
siderable fortitude  ; but  soon  will  the  tongue  turn  white,  the  appetite 
fail,  and  the  complexion  grow  sallow.  These  are  the  preludes  to  a 
host  of  maladies,  that,  radiating  from  the  organs  of  digestion,  spread 
their  baleful  influence  over  every  other  organ  and  function  in  the  body. 

And  here  a most  singular  phenomenon  presents  itself.  The  brain, 
the  citadel  of  the  soul,  which  had  withstood  the  first  assaults  of  the 
moral  enemy,  and  had,  as  it  were,  communicated  with  the  other  and 
inferior  organs  of  the  body,  for  support  or  participation,  is,  on  the  con- 
trary, assailed  rather  than  assisted  by  them  ! Thenceforth  there  is  no- 
thing but  action  and  reaction,  of  the  most  unfriendly  kind,  between  or- 
gans and  functions  that  had  hitherto  co-operated  in  the  strictest  har- 
mony ! The  human  microcosm,  at  this  time,  resembles  an  unfortunate 
city,  beleaguered,  on  all  sides,  by  the  enemy  from  without,  and  torn  by 


o 


98 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


the  dissentions  of  hostile  factions  within  its  walls ! The  mind  itself, 
whose  manifestations  must  necessarily,  in  this  sublunary  state,  corres- 
pond with  the  condition  of  the  material  tenement,  exhibits  phenomena 
in  strict  relation  with  the  bodily  functions.  Though  stunned,  as  it 
were,  by  the  first  collision  with  the  moral  cause  or  misfortune,  it  would 
regain  a great  degree  of  equanimity,  were  it  not  for  the  disorders  of  the 
body,  which,  reflected  from  organ  to  organ,  as  sounds  are  reverberated 
from  rock  to  rock,  deprive  the  mind  of  half  its  energy,  philosophy  of 
half  its  fortitude — and  even  religion  of  half  its  consolation  ! 

In  this  way  is  engendered  a host  of  disorders,  for  which  the  ingenuity 
of  man  would  be  puzzled  to  invent  designations.  They  have  been 
christened  the  “ mimosa,  or  imitators,”  because  they  assume  the  form 
of  every  disease  or  disorder  that  has  ever  yet  been  described,  and  of 
many  others  that  have  had  no  history  or  description.  It  is  not,  how- 
ever, strictly  correct,  to  represent  these  mimosa,  or  proteiform  maladies, 
as  always  merely  aping  the  forms  and  shapes  of  their  predecessors. 
The  truth  is,  that  the  disorders  of  our  forefathers  now  take  on  novel 
characters,  corresponding  with  modern  manners  and  habits  ; and  thus, 
in  conjunction  with  really  new  diseases,  appear  to  demand  a remodelled 
nomenclature. 

The  superior  cultivation  of  intellect,  now  so  eagerly  aimed  at,  as  the 
means  of  rising  in  the  world — indeed  of  getting  through  it — renders 
the  feelings  more  acute,  the  sympathies  more  active — the  whole  moral 
man,  in  short,  more  morbidly  sensitive  to  moral  impressions.  These 
impressions  are  annually  multiplying  in  number,  and  augmenting  in 
intensity.  The  principal  sources  from  whence  they  flow  in  a thousand 
streams,  on  suffering  humanity,  are  these  : — the  fury  of  politics,  the 
hazards  and  anxieties  of  commerce,  the  jealousies,  envies,  and  rivalries 
of  professions,  the  struggles  and  contentions  of  trade,  the  privations> 
discontents,  and  despair  of  poverty — to  which  might  perhaps  be  added, 
the  terrors  of  superstition,  and  the  hatreds  of  sectarianism.  These,  I 
have  said,  are  the  chief  fountains  of  our  moral  ills — and  these  pertur- 
bations of  the  mind  induce,  directly  or  indirectly,  nine-tenths  of  the 
disorders  of  the  body.  It  indicates  a high  degree  of  intellectual  culture 
in  the  time  of  Plato,  and  a very  low  ratio  of  physical  causes  of  disease, 
when  we  find  that  philosopher  ascribing  “ all  disorders  of  the  body  to 
the  soul”-  — 


“ Omnia  corporis  mala  ab  animo.” 


SOURCES  OK  MODERN  MALADIES. 


99 


The  remark  shews,  at  all  events,  that  the  Grecian  sage  was  either  a 
most  observant  physician,  or  a veritable  prophet.  If  for  “ all ” we  sub- 
stitute “ most”  disorders,  the  maxim  of  Plato  is  strictly  true  and  appli- 
cable in  these  our  own  days. 

And  here  it  may  be  both  curious  and  useful  to  advert  to  a remark- 
able relation  between  the  mental  and  corporeal  functions  of  man,  which 
has  appeared  to  render  the  influence  of  the  morale  over  the  physique 
even  more  extended  than  it  really  is,  in  the  production  of  diseases.  It 
is  this  : — the  moral  affliction  is  very  often  only  an  accessary,  or  aux- 
iliary to  the  physical  cause  in  bringing  forth  maladies  of  the  body. 
Thus,  a man  may  be  daily  exposed,  for  weeks  or  months — perhaps  for 
years,  to  the  contagion  of  typhus  fever — to  marsh  miasma  or  malaria — 
to  the  poison  of  scarlatina  or  erysipelas  diffused  in  the  air — or  to  that 
inscrutable  agent  which  produces  cholera,  with  perfect  impunity,  his 
mind  being  easy  and  tranquil.  But  let  a mental  affliction  occur,  and 
immediately  the  morbific  poison  which  had  lain  dormant  in  the  consti- 
tution, or,  at  all  events,  was  unable  to  develop  itself,  bursts  forth  and 
displays  its  specific  effects — the  moral  tribulation  appearing  to  be  the 
direct  or  immediate  cause  of  the  bodily  disorder.  This  remarkable  and 
well-known  fact  shews,  not  only  how  anxiety  or  trouble  of  mind  lays 
the  human  frame  more  open  to  the  operation  of  purely  physical  agents 
of  a deleterious  kind,  but  also  how  tranquillity  or  serenity  of  mind  will 
render  the  said  agents  almost  innocuous. 

I could  fill  a volume  with  the  individual  examples  of  this  kind  which 
I have  personally  observed,  and  am  daily  witnessing ; but  I shall  only 
adduce  a few  illustrations  drawn  from  large  masses  or  classes  of  men, 
and  which  I have  had  opportunities  of  noting  in  various  parts  of  the 
world.  One  of  the  most  recent  and  melancholy  instances  occurred  in 
the  fatal  expedition  to  Walcheren.  While  our  troops  and  seamen  were 
actively  engaged  in  the  siege  and  bombardment  of  Flushing,  exposed 
to  intense  heat,  heavy  rains,  and  poisonous  exhalations  from  a mala- 
rious soil,  inundated  by  the  turbid  waters  of  the  Scheldt,  scarcely  a man 
was  on  the  sick-list ; — the  excitement  of  warfare,  the  prospect  of  vic- 
tory, and  the  expectation  of  booty,  completely  fortifying  the  body  against 
all  the  physical  causes  of  disease  that  environed  the  camp  and  the  fleet. 
I verily  believe  that,  even  after  the  fatal  delay  before  Flushing,  if  we 
had  pushed  on  for  Antwerp,  and  captured  the  fleet,  the  armament  would 
have  returned  in  health,  to  the  British  shores,  and  the  fever  of  Walcheren 


100 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


would  scarcely  have  been  recorded.  But  when  culpable  mismanage- 
ment was  crowned  with  irretrievable  failure  of  the  expedition — and  still 
worse,  when  the  dispirited  troops  were  kept  penned  up  inactive  on  the 
sickly  and  monotonous  plains  of  Walcheren  and  Beveland,  then,  indeed, 
the  pestilent  miasmata,  which  our  men  had  been  breathing  for  weeks, 
with  impunity,  burst,  like  a volcano  over  their  devoted  heads,  and  either 
swept  them,  in  thousands,  to  an  inglorious  grave,  or  harassed  them,  for 
years,  with  all  the  tortures  which  the  “ fiend  of  the  fens,”  is  so  well 
qualified  to  inflict ! 

To  whatever  point  of  the  compass  we  turn,  we  see  striking  examples 
of  a similar  kind.  Edam,  on  the  coast  of  Java,  was  a memorable  and 
melancholy  prototype  of  Walcheren,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Scheldt. 
After  the  failure  of  attack  on  Batavia,  the  Isle  of  Edam  was  the  grave 
of  our  troops  and  tars.  Looking  westward,  who  does  not  remember 
“ Hosier’s  Ghost,”  and  the  ghosts  of  hundreds  and  thousands  of  our 
countrymen  ! — More  recently,  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi  were 
tainted  by  the  corses  of  our  soldiers  and  sailors,  after  the  repulse  from 
New  Orleans  ! Our  naval  history  furnishes  numerous  examples.  Two 
ships  sail  for  the  East  Indies,  for  instance,  under  nearly  similar  circum- 
stances. The  one  is  successful  in  prizes,  and  arrives  at  her  destination, 
without  any  sickness.  The  other  makes  no  captures — the  crew  be- 
come dispirited — and  scurvy,  dysentery,  or  fever,  makes  destructive 
ravages.  Of  this  fact,  I could  adduce,  and  have  adduced,  striking 
illustrations  and  proofs  in  another  place.* 

But  knowledge  the  most  precious  is  sometimes  gleaned  from  calami- 
ties the  most  appalling.  Public  disasters,  of  national  interest  at  the 
time,  have  developed  a principle,  which  may  be  beneficially  adopted  in 
the  various  afflictions  of  private  life.  It  is  wonderful  that  this  principle, 
so  clearly  revealed,  on  many  melancholy  and  momentous  occasions, 
should  be  so  little  appreciated,  and  so  seldom  applied  practically  to  the 
exigencies  of  life.  The  principle  is  simply  this : — that,  in  all  moral 
afflictions,  vigorous  exertion  of  the  corporeal  powers  is  the  very  best 
antidote  to  the  baleful  effects  of  the  depressing  passions  of  the  mind ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  deleterious  consequences  of  the  moral 
evil  are  exasperated  ten-fold  by  inertness  of  the  body.  This  latter  part 
of  the  principle  has  been  sufficiently  illustrated  by  the  deplorable  in- 


* “ Influence  of  Tropical  Climates  on  European  Constitutions.” — 5th  Ed. 


SALUTARY  EFFECTS  OF  CORPOREAL  EXERTION.  101 

stances  of  Walcheren,  Batavia,  &c.  I could  adduce  numerous  examples 
from  private  life  ; but  that  is  unnecessary.  The  first,  and  most  impor- 
tant part  of  the  principle  deserves  some  illustration  in  detail. 

One  of  the  earliest  and  most  memorable  illustrations  will  be  found  in 
the  celebrated  retreat  of  the  “ ten  thousand  Greeks,”  under  Xeno- 
phon and  Cheirisophus,  after  the  fall  of  Cyrus  on  the  plains  of  Cunaxa. 
This  band  of  auxiliaries  were  left  without  commanders,  money,  or  pro- 
visions, to  traverse  a space  of  twelve  hundred  leagues,  under  constant 
alarms  from  the  attacks  of  barbarous  and  successive  swarms  of  enemies. 
They  had  to  cross  rapid  rivers,  penetrate  gloomy  forests,  drag  their 
weaiy  way  over  vast  and  burning  deserts,  scale  the  summits  of  rugged 
mountains,  and  wade  through  deep  snows  and  pestilent  morasses,  in 
continual  danger  of  death,  or  capture,  which  was  far  worse  than  death  ! 
This  retreat  is  nearly  unparalleled,  in  the  annals  of  war,  for  difficulties 
and  perils ; but  has  been  surpassed  in  disasters,  within  the  present 
century.  The  Greek  army  had  infinitely  greater  cause  for  mental  des- 
pondency, when  they  saw  their  generals  butchered  by  the  treacherous 
Tissaphernes,  and  themselves  surrounded  by  ruthless  foes,  two  or  three 
thousand  miles  from  any  friendly  country,  than  any  army  since  that 
period.  It  is  not  a little  remarkable  that,  in  the  first  stupor  of  misfor- 
tune by  which  they  were  overwhelmed,  and  nearly  captured,  Xenophon 
discerned  and  broached  the  very  principle  of  conservative  hygiene  (I 
allude  not  to  modern  political  designations)  for  which  I am  here  con- 
tending. In  his  address  to  some  of  his  companions,  in  the  fearful  night 
that  succeeded  the  murder  of  Clearchus  and  the  other  leaders  of  the 
phalanx,  he  says  : — “ The  soldiers  have,  at  present,  nothing  before  their 
eyes  but  misfortune — if  any  one  can  turn  their  thoughts  into  action, 
it  would  greatly  encourage  them.”  Here  is  the  very  principle  itself, 
happily  conceived,  and  most  promptly  acted  on,  by  the  young  Athenian 
General.  He  tried,  and  with  success,  to  convert  the  torpor  of  despair 
into  the  energy  of  desperation — urging  the  men  to  prefer  death  in  the 
sanguinary,  but  brief  and  almost  painless  conflict  with  the  enemy,  per- 
sonally and  collectively,  to  the  protracted  tortures  that  wTould  be  the 
inevitable  consequence  of  captivity  ! Then  it  was  that  the  tents  wrere 
burnt,  the  carriages  destroyed,  the  sumpter-horses  slaughtered,  and 
every  unnecessary  incumbrance,  besides  “ the  soldier  and  his  sword,” 
abandoned. 

During  215  days  of  almost  uninterrupted,  and  toilsome  march — often 
between  two  enemies,  and  engaged  in  front  and  rear  at  the  same  mo- 


102 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


ment,  the  army  lost  an  uncertain,  but  not  a great  number  of  men — 
partly  by  the  darts  and  arrows  of  the  barbarians — partly  by  desertion — 
partly  by  drowning  in  the  rivers,  or  sinking  in  the  morasses — partly  by 
perishing  in  the  snows  of  the  Armenian  mountains — but  not  one  by 
sickness  ! Xenophon  is  often  very  minute  in  his  statements  of  losses, 
even  describing  the  individual  cases,  the  names  of  these  individuals,  and 
the  parts  of  the  body  wounded.  Only  two  instances  of  sickness  are 
put  on  record  : — one,  a sort  of  Bulimia,  or  canine  appetite,  produced  by 
the  cold  of  the  snow,  which  was  observed  in  a considerable  number  of 
men,  but  did  not  prove  fatal.  The  other,  was  an  illness  of  24  hours, 
which  was  general  throughout  the  army,  in  consequence  of  indulgence 
in  a kind  of  honey-comb,  which  they  found,  at  one  place,  in  Armenia, 
in  great  abundance.  It  produced  vomiting  and  purging,  among  those 
who  ate  freely ; but  a kind  of  drunken  delirium  in  those  who  ate  little.* 
He  also  describes  very  minutely,  the  almost  unconquerable  disposition 
to  sleep,  produced  by  the  frigidity  of  the  snows  on  the  mountains  near 
the  sources  of  the  Tigris.  The  army  was  in  great  jeopardy  from  this 
cause,  for  some  days,  and  the  soldiers  could  hardly  be  induced  to  con- 
tinue their  march.  Many  of  the  rear-guard  lay  down,  and  preferred 
dying  or  being  captured  by  the  enemy,  to  perseverance  against  the 
lethargic  sleep  that  overpowered  them.  Xenophon  was  obliged  to  halt, 
and  repulse  the  enemy,  to  prevent  these  men  from  falling  victims  to  the 
cold  or  to  the  barbarians. 

The  number  of  the  Greeks,  at  the  commencement  of  this  memorable 
retreat,  is  not  stated ; but,  estimating  it  at  the  full  complement  of  ten 
thousand,  it  is  clear  that  they  could  not  have  lost  above  500  men,  at 
the  utmost,  since  they  mustered,  in  the  very  last  battle  which  they  had 
(and  in  which  they  experienced  hardly  any  loss),  nine  thousand  five 
hundred  troops,  not  including  women  and  slaves  ! — They  never  abandoned 
a single  individual ; and  they  had  no  means  of  carrying  sick  men  along 
with  them,  if  any  considerable  number  existed.  The  fact  is,  therefore, 
clearly  established,  that  no  sickness,  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the 
word,  occurred  in  this  series  of  sufferings  and  privations. 

Now,  I am  very  far  from  insisting  that  this  astonishing  immunity  from 
sickness  was  solely  attributable  to  the  constant  activity  of  the  body. 


* I was  informed  by  my  talented  friend  Sir  Charles  Bagot  that,  after  a breakfast 
among  the  mountains  of  Virginia,  in  which  he  ate  rather  freely  of  honey,  he  ex- 
perienced a kind  of  inebriation,  from  which  he  did  not  get  free  till  after  severe  sickness. 
This  resulted  from  some  property  of  the  honey  derived  from  the  nutriment  of  the  bees. 


SALUTARY  EFFECTS  OF  CORPOREAL  EXERTION. 


103 


There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  perpetual  excitement  of  the  mind — 
gloomy  and  depressing  as  it  often  was,  but  checquered,  as  it  occasionally 
must  have  been,  by  gleams  of  hope  breaking  through  the  dense  clouds 
of  despondency — contributed,  in  no  mean  degree,  to  preserve  the  health 
and  the  lives  of  the  troops.  But  I am  convinced  that,  without  the  cor- 
poreal activity — the  perpetual  exposure  to  all  the  vicissitudes  of  climate, 
in  the  open  air — the  necessary  temperance,  which  they  were  forced  to 
observe — the  ten  thousand  Greeks  would  have  experienced  a very 
different  fate.  This,  I think,  is  proved  by  numerous  modern  instances. 
I shall  only  allude  to  one — the  Austrians  pent  up  in  Mantua,  where 
they  lost  double  the  number  of  the  French  who  besieged  them,  though 
these  last  were  far  more  exposed  to  the  poisonous  miasmata  of  the 
marshes  than  those  within  the  ramparts.  But  despondency  and  in- 
activity prevailed  among  the  one  class  of  troops ; — exhilaration  and 
activity  among  the  other. 

When  I said  that  the  difficulties  and  perils  of  the  “ ten  thousand 
Greeks”  were  nearly  unparalleled,  I had  in  mind  the  case  of  our  own 
countrymen — the  unfortunate  associates  of  Byron — who  experienced 
perils,  toils,  and  privations,  infinitely  greater  than  those  which  befel  the 
Macedonian  phalanx.  The  Greeks  marched  through  hostile,  but  popu- 
lous and  fertile  countries.  Xenophon  has  related  no  instance  of  suffer- 
ings from  hunger  in  the  Greek  army,  during  the  retreat.  Byron’s  men 
were  frequently  reduced  to  the  dire  necessity  of  eating  grass — and  many 
died  from  sheer  starvation ! Often  were  they  so  situated,  that  the 
faintest  ray  of  hope  could  hardly  have  dawned  on  the  horizon  of  their 
desperate  prospects ! 

“ And  such  thy  strength-inspiring  aid  that  bore 
The  hardy  Byron  to  his  native  shore — 

In  horrid  climes,  where  Chiloe’s  tempests  sweep 
Tumultuous  murmurs  o’er  the  troubled  deep, 

'Twas  his  to  mourn  Misfortune’s  rudest  shock, 

Scourged  by  the  winds,  and  cradled  on  the  rock — 

To  wake  each  joyless  morn,  and  search  again 
The  famished  haunts  of  solitary  men ; — 

Whose  race,  unyielding  as  their  native  storm, 

Knows  not  a trace  of  Nature  but  the  form  ; — 

Yet  at  thy  call,  the  hardy  Tar  pursued, 

Pale,  but  intrepid — sad,  but  unsubdued — 

Pierced  the  deep  woods,  and  hailing  from  afar, 

The  moon’s  pale  planet,  and  the  northern  star, 

Paused  at  each  dreary  cry,  unheard  before, 

Hyenas  in  the  wild,  and  mermaids  on  the  shore  ! 


104 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


Campbell  has  here  made  his  favourite,  Hope,  the  guardian  angel 
of  our  unfortunate  countrymen ; and  far  am  I from  wishing  to  deny  or 
diminish  the  influence  of  that  exhilirating  and"n  ever- dying  passion  of 
the  human  breast.  But  I am  convinced  that  Byron  and  his  associates 
owed  their  preservation  (those  few  who  survived)  mainly  to  incessant 
exercise  of  body  and  vigilance  of  mind.  After  a certain  duration,  indeed, 
of  their  miseries  and  toils,  they  became  so  careless  of  life,  and  so  com- 
pletely bereft  of  hope,  that  four  of  them  were  left  to  starve  and  die  on 
that  horrid  coast,  without  the  slightest  symptom  of  reluctance  on  their 
part ! The  boat  would  not  hold  them  all — and  four  marines  remained, 
cheering  their  companions  when  shoving  off  from  the  shore  ! The  boat, 
some  time  afterwards,  was  forced  back,  but  the  poor  marines  were 
nowhere  found ! Although  nine- tenths  of  the  original  crew  appear  to 
have  perished  by  drowning  or  starvation,  Byron  makes  no  mention  of 
sickness,  during  any  period  of  the  long  and  unparalleled  series  of  suffer- 
ings to  which  this  ill-fated  ship’s  company  was  doomed. 

The  memorable  and  disastrous  retreat  of  Sir  John  Moore  through 
the  mountains  of  Spain,  furnishes  another  illustration  of  the  principle 
in  question.  When  all  hope  of  success  had  vanished — when  all  dis- 
cipline was  at  an  end — when  the  daily  routine  of  toil,  hunger,  and  cold, 
was  only  varied  and  relieved  by  conflicts  with  an  overpowering  and  pur- 
suing enemy — when  drunkenness  too  often  added  desperation  to  valour 
— there  was  little  or  no  sickness  in  the  harassed  and  dispirited  army  ! 
Even  at  the  water’s  edge,  and  when  Napoleon’s  order  to  “ drive  the 
leopard  into  the  sea,”  was  being  put  into  execution — the  hastily  and 
half-formed  phalanx  of  march-worn,  famine-wasted  warriors,  repulsed 
the  legions  of  the  imperial  conqueror,  as  the  columnar  ranges  of  Staffa 
hurl  back,  in  foam,  the  surges  of  the  Atlantic.  But,  when  danger  was 
over,  and  safety  secured — when  activity  of  body  and  excitement  of  mind 
were  changed  for  repose  and  comfort — then  did  disease  break  forth  with 
terrible  malignity,  and  thousands  perished  ingloriously  in  our  hospitals, 
after  narrow  escapes  by  flood  and  field — and  after  vanquishing  the  ene- 
my, by  which  they  had  been  closely  pursued  and  dreadfully  harassed. 

The  salvation  from  shipwreck  by  means  of  boats,  though  often  of  the 
most  terrible  and  almost  miraculous  kind,  do  not  so  well  illustrate  the 
principle  in  question,  as  toilsome  marches  on  shore — because  there  is 
not  that  exercise  of  the  body,  in  the  former,  as  in  the  latter  case.  Yet 
the  vigilance  necessary  in  escapes  from  shipwreck,  combined  with  the 
exercise  of  rowing  and  managing  the  sails,  keep  the  body  in  a state  of 


SALUTARY  EFFECTS  OF  CORPOREAL  EXERTION. 


105 


health,  that  could  never  have  been  anticipated  under  such  circum- 
stances. A part  of  the  crew  of  the  Bounty,  under  Capt.  Bligh,  went 
through  most  wonderful  scenes  of  suffering,  as  well  as  danger,  writh 
almost  entire  immunity  from  sickness.  Dr.  Wilson,  of  the  Royal  Navy, 
has  recently  published  a narrative,  little  inferior  in  interest  to  that  of 
the  Bounty.  The  vessel  in  which  he  was  embarked  was  w'recked  on  a 
coral  reef  in  the  Indian  Ocean,  and  the  crew  escaped  in  two  fragile 
boats,  which  traversed  a distance  of  nearly  a thousand  miles,  exposed  to 
the  elements — and  often  to  savages  more  dangerous  than  storms  and 
seas — without  the  loss  of  a man — and  even  without  sickness — though 
they  were  so  reduced  by  hunger  and  fatigue,  that  their  friends  hardly 
knew  them  when  they  got  to  a friendly  port. 

The  last  event  to  'which  I shall  allude,  is  the  disastrous  hetreat  of 
the  French  from  Moscow.  This  was  a catastrophe  so  terrific,  that  I 
fear  to  approach  it,  and  doubt  how  to  handle  it ! It  looks  more  like  a 
visitation  of  divine  displeasure  on  a guilty  nation,  than  the  common 
result  of  moral  and  physical  causes,  even  on  the  largest  scale  of  ope- 
ration. Think  of  More  than  thirty  times  the  amount  of  the  whole 
Grecian  army,  under  Xenophon,  cut  off — utterly  annihilated — in  one-fifth 
part  of  the  time  occupied  by  the  Macedonian  retreat — and,  apparently, 
under  far  less  difficulties  ! More  than  three  hundred  thousand  men  were 
destroyed  in  the  retreat  from  Moscow — while  the  Grecians  lost  not  more 
than  five  hundred  between  the  Tigris  and  Trebizond ! The  snows  of 
Russia  were  not  more  impassable  than  those  of  Caucasus ; and  the 
soldiers  of  Napoleon  were  surely  more  accustomed  to  frigid  skies  than 
the  troops  of  Xenophon.  But  order  and  discipline  were  preserved  in 
the  Grecian  ranks,  while  disorder  and  insubordination  prevailed  to  a 
frightful  extent  in  those  of  the  Gaul.  Under  these  last  circumstances, 
and  in  dire  conflict  with  the  elements,  the  piercing  blast  swept  down 
their  tottering  columns,  as  the  autumnal  tempest  scatters  the  withered 
leaves  of  the  deciduous  forest.  In  this  terrific  scene,  the  destroying 
angel  was  not  accompanied  by  his  usual  ghastly  attendant — sickness. 
Those  whom  the  sword  and  the  elements  spared,  were  exempted  from 
all  common  maladies  till  they  reached  an  asylum.  There,  in  safety  and 
at  ease,  when  reflection  on  the  dreadful  catastrophe  in  the  army  was 
aided  in  its  deleterious  influence  on  the  mind,  by  inactivity  of  body,  the 
most  frightful  and  extraordinary  diseases  burst  forth,  and  a majority  of 

P 


106 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


this  ill-fated  remnant  only  escaped  one  form  of  death,  to  be  cut  off  by 
others  more  lingering  and  painful ! 

W ere  it  not  that  historical  records  have  more  weight  and  authenticity 
than  private  statements,  I would  adduce  some  remarkable  illustrations 
of  the  principle  in  question,  from  my  individual  observation ; but  I think 
it  is  unnecessary.  The  practical  application  of  this  principle  to  a variety 
of  exigencies,  of  daily  and  hourly  occurrence,  is  what  I most  strenuously 
urge  on  the  notice  of  all  classes  of  readers.  Disorders  of  the  body,  in 
these  days,  are  engendered  and  propagated,  to  a most  frightful  extent, 
by  moral  commotions  and  anxieties  of  the  mind,  as  will  be  shewn  far- 
ther on  ; and  if  I have  proved  that  corporeal  exertion,  especially  when 
aided  by  any  intellectual  excitement  or  pursuit,  can  obviate  the  evils 
that  ensue  to  soul  and  body  from  these  causes,  I shall  do  some  service 
to  the  community.  The  principle  in  question  is  neither  utopian  nor  of 
difficult  application.  It  is  within  the  reach  of  high  and  low — rich  and 
poor — the  learned  and  the  unlettered.  Let  moral  ills  overtake  any  of 
these,  and  he  is  in  the  high  way  to  physical  illness.  To  prevent  the 
corporeal  malady,  and  to  diminish,  as  much  as  possible,  the  mental  af- 
fliction itself,  the  individual  must  tread  in  the  steps — haud  passibus  eequis 
— of  Xenophon  and  Byron.  He  must  “ keep  the  body  active,  and  the 
stomach  empty.”  I can  answer  for  the  value  of  this  precept.  It  pre- 
vents not  the  individual  from  throwing  into  the  prescription  as  much 
philosophy,  physic,  and  even  theology,  as  he  pleases.  Of  the  last  in- 
gredient, it  becomes  not  me  to  speak,  even  comparatively  ; but  of  the 
two  other  items,  I can  conscientiously  own  that  they  are  as  “ dust  in  the 
balance,”  when  weighed  against  the  Gr^eco-Byronian  recipe  which  I 
have  so  strongly  recommended.  The  poor  man  has  not  far  to  cast  about 
in  quest  of  the  means  for  putting  this  principle  into  practice.  Generally 
speaking,  he  adopts  it,  nolens  volens ; and  hence  it  is,  that  the  most  in- 
digent suffer  less  from  moral  ills  and  misfortunes  than  those  who  are  far 
removed  from  want.  As  man  rises  in  rank  and  riches,  he  becomes  de- 
prived— or  rather  he  deprives  himself — not  of  the  means,  but  of  the  in- 
clination to  embrace  the  protection  which  this  principle  holds  out. 
Amongst  the  inferior  orders  of  society,  indolence  and  inebriety  give  a 
fearful  impetus  to  the  shock  of  misfortune,  and  soon  induce  a variety  of 
corporeal  disorders  that  curtail  the  range  of  life,  and  destroy  the  springs 
of  happiness.  And  even  in  higher  quarters,  where  we  might  expect 
better  things,  the  mental  affliction,  or  the  moral  adversity,  appears  to 


INGRATITUDE  TO  MOTHERS. 


107 


paralyze  the  energies  of  the  soul,  prostrate  all  firmness  of  resolve,  and 
place  in  complete  abeyance  all  fortitude  and  power  of  resistance  against 
the  overwhelming  evil ! In  such  condition,  it  is  no  wonder  that  tem- 
porary solace  is  sought  in  wine  and  other  deleterious  stimulants,  which 
only  smother  the  flame,  like  coals  heaped  on  a fire,  to  make  the  com- 
bustion more  fierce  and  destructive  afterwards.  From  these  sources  are 
derived  many  of  those  hypochondriacal  miseries — dyspeptic  torments, 
and  even  intellectual  aberrations,  which  wre  every  day  observe.  The 
application  of  the  counteracting  principle  in  question,  must  be  left  to  in- 
dividual ingenuity.  Women  have  less  facilities  for  putting  it  in  prac- 
tice than  men,  for  obvious  reasons ; but  fortunately  they  bear  dispen- 
sations, and  vicissitudes,  with  much  more  fortitude  than  their  boasted 
superiors — the  stronger  sex.* 

And  here  (though,  perhaps,  a little  out  of  place)  I cannot  help  ad- 
verting to  a topic  on  which  I have  often  meditated  with  painful  feelings 
— the  ingratitude  which  woman  experiences  from  man,  but  especially 
from  her  male  progeny  ! Had  not  the  God  of  Nature  added  instinct  to 
reason  in  the  human  female  breast,  the  race  would,  long  since,  have 
become  extinct.  The  pains,  the  penalties,  the  toils,  the  cares,  the 
anxieties  of  a mother,  are  not  repaid  by  any  thing  like  an  adequate  de- 
gree of  gratitude  on  the  part  of  the  offspring  ! Nothing,  indeed,  can 
repay  the  female  parent  for  what  she  undergoes  on  account  of  her  chil- 
dren ; and  boasted  reason  would  sink  under  the  task,  or  shrink  from 
the  duty,  had  not  the  Omniscient  Creator  infused  into  the  mother’s  heart 
the  irresistible  instinct  of  the  lioness,  which  prompts  the  savage  animal 
to  die  in  defence  of  its  progeny  ! — In  the  savage  breast,  the  instinctive 
feeling  soon  ceases,  and  reason  being  absent,  all  sympathy  between  pa- 


* It  may  appear  paradoxical,  but  I am  convinced  it  is  true — namely,  that  it  would 
be  much  better  for  some  people  to  lose  the  whole  of  their  fortune  than  only  half  of  it. 
The  latter  loss  preys  upon  their  minds  and  keeps  them  in  a state  of  fretting,  till  their 
health  is  destroyed,  and  sometimes  their  reason  impaired — because  they  have  still 
enough  of  property  left  to  keep  them  from  actual  want  or  manual  labour.  But  if  the 
whole  of  their  means  are  swept  away,  then  they  are  forced  to  seek  some  avocation  or 
pursuit,  which  diverts  the  mind  from  the  moral  vicissitude,  till  the  sting  of  adversity 
is  blunted  by  the  hand  of  time.  There  are  some  curious  phenomena,  which  are  ex- 
plicable only  on  this  principle  of  derivation.  Thus,  the  tortures  of  a painful 
surgical  operation  are  greatly  mitigated,  by  giving  vent  to  the  feelings  in  loud  wail- 
ings. So,  also,  a sudden  and  overwhelming  affliction,  as  the  loss  of  a parent,  sister, 
or  child,  is  rendered  less  hurtful  by  a burst  of  crying  and  a flood  of  tears. — 2d  Ed, 


108 


ECONOMY  OK  HEALTH . 


rent  and  progeny  ceases  also.  Not  so  with  the  human  female  parent. 
The  primary  instinct  is  never  entirely  obliterated ; but,  cherished 
through  life  by  the  nobler  gift  of  reason,  the  ties  of  Nature,  between 
mother  and  child,  are  infinitely  stronger  than  between  the  father  and 
offspring.  It  is  strange  that  the  ancient  poets,  when  deifying  so  many 
meaner  attributes  of  human  nature,  forgot  maternal  affection.  They 
have  cloathed  in  divinity  the  barbarous  monster  who  slaughtered  the 
children  of  Niobe,  when  they  ought  to  have  deified  the  parental  agony 
which  the  mother  felt,  and  which  even  the  marble  yet  breathes  forth  ! 
Our  own  immortal  poet,  Campbell,  has  actually  personified  this  same 
maternal  love  of  offspring,  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  forms  under 
which  he  delineates  his  “ Angel  of  Life” — his  favourite  hope. 

Lo  ! at  the  couch  where  infant  beauty  sleeps, 

Her  silent  watch  the  mournful  mother  keeps ; 

And  weaves  a song  of  melancholy  joy — 

“ Sleep,  image  of  thy  father,  sleep,  my  boy ; 

“ Thy  fame,  thy  worth,  thy  filial  love,  at  last, 

“ Shall  soothe  this  aching  heart  for  all  the  past — 

“ With  many  a smile  my  solitude  repay, 

“ And  chace  the  world’s  ungenerous  scorn  away.” 

That  it  is  the  instinctive  love  of  offspring , rather  than  the  hope  of  a 
return  of  love  and  filial  duties  from  the  infant,  which  fills  the  mother’s 
breast  with  the  musings  so  beautifully  described  by  the  poet,  I firmly 
believe.  Indeed  I think  the  poet  himself  has  proved  it ; for  soon  after- 
wards he  breaks  forth  thus  : — 

So  speaks  affection,  ere  the  infant  eye. 

Can  look  regard,  or  brighten  in  reply. 

There  is  another  train  of  reflections  which  the  poet  causes  to  pass 
through  the  mind  of  the  mother,  while  gazing  on  the  unconscious  babe, 
and  which  I believe  to  be  more  natural — certainly  more  sublime  and  dis- 
interested, than  that  which  he  has  already  portrayed. 

And  say,  when  summon’d  from  the  world  and  thee, 

I lay  my  head  beneath  the  willow  tree, 

Wilt  thou , sweet  mourner  ! at  my  stone  appear, 

And  soothe  my  parted  spirit  ling’ring  near  ? 

Oh  ! wilt  thou  come,  at  ev’ning  hour,  to  shed 
The  tear  of  Memory  o’er  my  narrow  bed ; 

Breathe  a deep  sigh  to  winds  that  murmur  low, 

And  think  on  all  my  love  and  all  my  woe? 

In  that  passage,  there  is  a train  of  thought  worthy  of  an  immortal 


M A TB  RNAL  AFFECT  I O N , 


109 


being,  and,  in  itself,  indicative  of  immortality  ! But  what  i maintain  is 
this,  that  these  and  all  other  trains  of  reflection  in  the  mind  of  the  mo- 
ther, spring  from  the  same  grancf  source — the  instinctive  love  of 
offspring.  This  inherent  passion  is,  indeed,  sublimed  by  reason  and 
religion  ; and  extends  itself,  in  the  form  of  hope,  beyond  the  grave,  as 
the  poet  has  beautifully  shewn  ; but  whether  the  sentiment  be  sordid  or 
sublime,  its  origin  must  be  traced  to  humble  animal  instinct — if  anything 
can  be  humble  which  emanates  from  the  hand — nay,  the  design  of  our 
Creator.  As  the  philo -progenitive  passion  is  one  of  the  very  few  in- 
stincts common  to  man  and  the  inferior  animals,  the  locality  of  its  mate- 
rial organ  or  instrument  is  said  to  be  more  accurately  ascertained  by 
phrenologists  than  most  other  organs.  It  is  much  larger  in  the  female 
than  in  the  male,  whether  human  or  animal. 

When  I say  that  the  mother  is  treated  with  ingratitude,  I speak  com- 
paratively. A mother  cannot  have  sufficient  gratitude  from  her  children, 
because  no  return  of  filial  affection  can  compensate  for  maternal  suffer- 
ings, love,  and  anxiety.  To  the  honor  of  human  nature,  however,  it  is 
but  justice  to  state,  that  hardly  any  barbarity  of  manners  or  malignity 
of  disposition  can  eradicate  from  the  human  breast  that  sense  of  obliga- 
tion which  the  offspring  owes  to  the  parent — and  especially  a mother. 
The  female  heart  is,  indeed,  the  natural  channel  through  which  the  cur- 
rent of  parental  love  and  filial  affection  runs  with  the  strongest  and  stea- 
diest course.  A son  may  neglect  or  forget  a mother — a daughter  never  ! 

Is  there  any  reward  for  filial  gratitude,  and  punishment  for  ingratitude, 
in  this  world  ? It  would  probably  be  neither  a safe  nor  an  orthodox 
doctrine  to  maintain  that  all  sins  and  crimes  are  punished  in  this  proba- 
tionary state,  yet  I am  much  inclined  to  believe  that  very  few  of  them 
escape  retributive  justice,  sooner  or  later,  in  life.  Many  punishments 
are  not  visible  to  the  world,  though  keenly  felt  by  the  individuals  on 
whom  they  fall.  As  the  silent  and  unseen  worm  corrodes  the  heart  of 
the  solid  oak,  so  a guilty  conscience  consumes  the  heart  of  man,  though 
the  countenance  may  not  indicate  the  gnawings  of  the  worm  within ! 
Whenever  we  have  an  opportunity  of  tracing  the  consequences  that  flow 
from  a breach  of  the  laws  of  God  or  Nature,  we  find  those  consequences 
terminate  in  suffering,  moral  or  physical — generally  both.  This  being 
the  case,  we  may  very  safely  conclude  that  such  breaches  always  draw 
after  them  a penal  infliction,  whether  that  infliction  be  patent  to  the 
world  or  not.  In  respect  to  filial  ingratitude,  it  is  to  be  remembered 


no 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH 


that,  in  the  great  majority  of  instances,  the  ingrate  is  destined  to  receive 
its  punishment  when,  in  turn,  it  becomes  a parent.  Then,  and  often 
not  till  then,  it  feels  the  debt  of  gratitude  which  it  owed,  but  did  not 
discharge,  to  the  authors  of  its  being  ! The  penalty  is  paid  in  unavail- 
ing sorrow  and  repentance  too  late  ! Nor  does  filial  affection  or  grati- 
tude go  unrewarded,  even  when  not  returned  in  the  next  generation. 
While  memory  remains,  the  consciousness  of  having  done  our  duty  to 
those  who  watched  over  our  helpless  infancy,  will  smooth  the  downward 
journey  of  life,  and  sustain  us  under  the  neglect  or  ingratitude  of  our 
offspring.  Let  these  considerations  induce  mankind  to  foster,  even  were 
it  only  for  their  own  sake,  the  filial  love  and  kindness  which  the  God 
of  Nature  has  implanted  in  his  constitution,  and  which  cannot  be  vio- 
lated, without  punishment  in  this  world.  With  the  consequences  of 
the  moral  crime  of  filial  ingratitude,  in  a future  state,  it  is  for  the  divine 
to  deal.  I have  seen  enough  to  convince  me  that  part,  at  least,  of  our 
moral  and  physical  punishments  is  inflicted  on  this  side  of  the  grave. 
And  wisely,  in  my  opinion,  is  it  so  ordained  ! If  rewards  and  penalties 
for  moral  good  and  evil  were  entirely  postponed  to  a future  stage  of  ex- 
istence, virtue  would  flag,  and  vice  would  flourish  in  a frighful  degree  ! 
If  sin  did  not  taste  of  sorrow — if  the  infraction  of  human  laws  only  in- 
curred pain  and  suffering  in  the  flesh,  it  is  to  be  apprehended  that  our 
hopes  and  fears  respecting  that  undiscovered  country,  whence  traveller 
never  returns,  would  lose  much  of  their  intensity.  The  Omniscient 
Creator  foresaw  this,  and  provided  against  it,  by  decreeing  a foretaste 
of  rewards  and  punishments  that  can  neither  be  evaded  nor  misunder- 
stood ! And  wise  has  been  this  dispensation ! With  all  the  proofs  be- 
fore our  eyes  of  retributive  justice,  the  laws  of  God  and  Nature  are  often 
enough  violated  by  headstrong  man,  under  the  impulse  of  his  ungo- 
vernable passions  ! What  would  be  the  case  then,  were  there  no  sen- 
sible, tangible,  and  unequivocal  demonstrations  of  divine  laws,  and  pro- 
vidential penalties,  during  our  temporal  existence  ? The  doctrine  of 
future  rewards  and  punishments  would  become  a speculative  philosophy, 
disregarded  by  the  vulgar,  and  disbelieved  by  the  learned ! 

To  those  who  have  a deep,  or  even  a moderate  insight  into  the  nature 
of  man,  it  must  be  evident  that  human  laws  cannot  check  a tithe  of 
human  delinquencies.  Many  of  the  most  heinous  sins,  they  do  not 
even  pretend  to  prevent — but  only  to  punish,  and  that  when  too  late. 
Take,  for  example,  suicide.  No  human  law  can  prevent  a man  from 


PUNISHMENTS  IN  THIS  WORLD. 


Ill 


cutting  his  throat,  or  swallowing  poison  ; though  it  inflicts  a dastardly 
ignominy  on  the  corpse  (which  human  charity  generally  frustrates) — or 
visits  the  sin  of  the  guilty  dead  on  the  innocent  survivor.* 

It  may  be  objected  to  the  doctrine  I am  preaching,  that  all  crimes 
cannot  receive  even  a portion  of  punishment  in  this  world — for  instance 
suicide.  It  may  he  answered,  that  suicide  is  very  seldom  a crime,  be- 
cause it  is  generally  committed  during  a paroxysm  of  insanity — in  fact, 
it  is  usually  the  result  of  a corporeal  malady  to  which  the  just  and  un- 
just are  equally  liable.  But  granting  (which  I willingly  do)  that  self- 
destruction  is  sometimes  a cool  and  premeditated  act,  unconnected  with 
mental  alienation  ; is  it  to  be  inferred  that  the  delinquent  goes  un- 
punished in  this  world  ? He  who  comes  to  this  conclusion  has  very  little 
knowledge  of  human  nature.  The  agonies  experienced  by  a sane  mind, 
before  the  desperate  act  of  suicide  is  determined  on  or  committed,  are 
equal  to  any  that  we  can  conceive  in  the  day  of  final  retribution  ! An 
extensive  field  of  observation,  indeed,  has  convinced  me  that  the  amount 
of  mental  misery,  antecedent  to  suicide,  in  the  sane  mind,  is  generally 
sufficient,  of  itself,  to  produce  the  final  paroxysm  of  alienation,  during 
which  the  horrid  deed  is  consummated  ! But  self-destruction  is  only 
the  extreme  link  of  a long  chain  of  actions,  each  of  which  is  a grade 
of  the  same  thing — a breach  of  some  moral  or  physical  law  of  nature. 
Health  is  impaired,  and  life  itself  curtailed  by  a thousand  actions  which 
are  not  considered  criminal,  or  at  least  very  slightly  so,  as  compared  with 
suicide.  The  sufferings  preceding  or  accompanying  the  dire  act,  are 
with  more  difficulty  ascertained,  than  on  most  other  occasions,  because 
the  individual  is  no  longer  able  to  throw  light  on  the  subject ; but  as, 
in  every  case  where  the  attendant  circumstances  can  be  investigated,  we 
find  perpetration  and  punishment  as  inseparable  as  substance  and  shadow, 
we  may  fairly  conclude  that  the  Divine  Law  reaches  all  grades  and 
shades  of  guilt,  even  in  this  world,  though  human  laws  fail  to  visit  a 
great  proportion  of  evil  doings. 


* A man  insures  his  life  for  ten,  twenty,  or  thirty  years,  to  secure  a sum  for  his 
widow  or  children.  But,  in  a fit  of  temporary  insanity,  he  commits  suicide — and 
his  widow  or  children  are  punished  by  the  forfeiture  of  the  policy  ! In  such  cases 
the  “ value  of  the  policy”  should  be  returned  to  the  survivors — and  some  respectable 
Companies  do  so.  I knew  an  instance,  in  the  case  of  a clei'gyman  at  Kensington, 
who  destroyed  himself.  The  Crown  Insurance  Company  returned  the  “ value  of 
the  policy,”  an  equitable  composition  calculated  on  fixed  principles. 


112 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


The  same  reasoning  may  apply  to  rewards  as  to  punishments.  Be- 
cause virtue,  and  merit,  and  talent  are  not  apparently  rewarded  on  this 
globe,  it  does  not  follow  that  they  are  not  really  so.  If  the  wicked 
man  carries  a hell  in  his  bosom,  the  virtuous  may  and  does  maintain  a 
heaven  in  his  breast.  Of  all  rewards,  here  or  hereafter,  happiness  must 
be  the  greatest — and  we  have  the  authority  of  the  great  Ethic  Bard,  as 
well  as  daily  experience,  that — 

“ Virtue  alone  is  happiness  below.” 

Even  the  hope  of  reward  in  another  world,  based  on  conscious  recti- 
tude of  conduct,  and  religious  feelings,  is  in  itself  a reward  beyond  all 
estimation.  It  is  an  anchor  in  the  storms  of  adversity — a consolation 
in  the  deepest  distress  into  which  man  can  sink  in  this  world  of  care 
and  suffering ! 


We  have  now  brought  man  to  the  zenith  of  his  mental  and  corporeal 
powers — to  the  highest  arch — or  rather  to  the  two  highest  arches  of  the 
bridge  of  life,  with  the  stream  of  time  flowing  silently  under  his  feet ; 
his  hopes  undiminished — his  ambition  in  full  activity — and  his  prospects 
unclouded  by  the  slightest  shadow  of  doubt  or  despondency.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  all  couleur  de  rose ; for  love  has,  as  yet,  experienced  no 
reduction  of  temperature  in  the  human  breast,  but  warms  and  stimulates 
to  every  noble  action  ! It  is  not  unnatural  that  the  historian  of  the 
phases  of  human  existence  should  instinctively  halt  in  this  elevated 
region  of  the  journey,  and  contemplate  the  past,  the  present,  and  the 
future,  with  intense  interest. 

Thus,  with  delight,  we  linger  to  survey 

The  promised  joys  of  life’s  unmeasured  way  : — 

Thus,  from  afar,  each  dim  discover’d  scene. 

More  pleasing  seems  than  all  the  past  hath  been  ; 

While  every  form  that  fancy  can  repair 
From  dull  oblivion,  glows  divinely  there  ! 

Yes  ! when  we  reflect  that,  at  every  step  from  this  spot,  the  horizon 
behind  us  grows  more  obscure,  however  slowly,  while  the  pleasures  of 
hope  and  the  dreams  of  imagination  become  gradually  less  vivid,  human 
nature  may  well  be  excused  for  the  attempt  to  stay  the  march  of  in- 
exorable Time,  and,  if  possible,  tarry,  for  a moment,  on  this  highest 
point  and  brightest  speck  of  existence,  before  passing  the  rubicon  of  life  ! 


KNOWLEDGE. 


113 

The  **  grand  climacteric’'  ought  to  have  been  placed  at  42  instead  of 
63.  The  former  period  we  may,  however,  denominate  the  " climax 
of  life.”  The  path  of  man  through  the  two  meridian  Septenniads — 
from  28  to  42 — hears  some  analogy  to  the  apparent  course  of  the  sun 
at  noon-day.  For  an  hour  before,  and  an  hour  after  the  meridian  alti- 
tude, the  naked  eye  cannot  recognize  the  movement  of  the  blazing  orb  : 
— the  sextant  only  can  determine  whether  he  still  ascends,  or  passes 
the  zenith,  and  commences  his  downward  journey.  The  gnomon  of  the 
dial  alone  can  detect  the  otherwise  imperceptible  progress  of  the  grand 
luminary,  though  his  course  is  swifter  than  lightning  and  undeviating 
as  fate ! It  is  so  with  man.  When,  in  the  prime  of  life,  the  stream 
of  time  appears  to  flow  past  him,  without  moving  him  onwards — though 
doubtless  those  physical  changes  are  even  then  at  work,  which  after- 
wards display  their  effects  so  conspicuously.  Again  ; as  it  is  at  the 
rising  and  setting  of  the  sun,  that  the  motion  of  the  luminary  is  most 
sensible  to  the  eye ; so  it  is  in  youth  and  old  age,  that  the  rise  and  fall 
of  life  is  most  remarkably  perceptible. 

KNOWLEDGE. 

It  is  in  the  equatorial  portion  of  the  voyage  or  journey  of  life,  that 
man  mounts  the  tree  of  knowledge  ; and,  from  its  various  outspread 
branches,  endeavours  to  extend  the  natural  horizon  of  his  vision,  catch 
glimpses  of  prospects  that  lie  hidden  from  the  eye  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree,  and  which  would  almost  seem  to  be  designed  by  the  Creator  to 
remain  for  ever  veiled  from  human  scrutiny ! I might  support  this  idea 
by  Scripture.  The  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  was  forbidden  in  the 
Garden  of  Eden,  and  the  first  taste  of  it — 

“ Brought  Death  into  the  world,  and  all  our  woe/’ 

But  I will  not  insist  on  this  authority,  because  such  a procedure  arrests 
all  free  inquiry.  I am  not  aware  that  the  punishment  inflicted  on  our 
first  parents  for  tasting  the  forbidden  fruit,  is  extended  to  a repetition  of 
the  offence.  None  of  our  Divines,  that  I know  of,  consider  the  acqui- 
sition of  knowledge  as  a crime  at  present.  This,  by  the  way,  is  rather 
remarkable.  But  as  the  state  as  well  as  the  fate  of  man  was  changed 
by  the  fall,  so,  what  was  first  a fault  may  now  perhaps  be  a virtue. 
One  thing  is  certain,  viz.  that  the  tree  of  knowledge  has  continued,  till 
very  lately,  to  be  cultivated  only  in  gardens,  and  its  fruits  to  be  tasted 
only  by  a few  of  the  curious.  At  no  period  of  the  world,  and  in  no 

Q 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


nation  of  the  earth,  was  this  tree  reared  generally  in  field  or  forest. 
Among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  science  and  literature  were  confined  to 
a very  small  portion  of  the  population — and  in  the  middle  ages  they 
may  be  said  to  have  become  extinct.  The  invention  of  the  press  gene- 
rated the  power  of  diffusing  knowledge  throughout  every  gradation  of 
society ; but  it  was  not  till  the  present  time,  that  this  power  has  been 
put  into  active  operation.  We  have  no  means,  therefore,  of  judging  by 
past  experience,  of  the  effects  which  may  result  from  a universal  taste 
for  knowledge  and  a general  acquisition  of  that  article  which  turned 
our  first  parents  out  of  the  Garden  of  Eden ! Hitherto  it  has  been 
confined  to  certain  classes  of  society,  and  those  very  small  as  compared 
with  the  community  at  large.  The  inferences  which  we  draw  from  the 
effects  of  knowledge  on  small  and  isolated  masses  of  mankind,  must  be 
very  imperfect,  and  may  be  erroneous,  when  applied  to  a general  diffu- 
sion of  knowledge ; yet  these  effects  are  the  only  data  from  wrhich  we 
can  safely  deduce  any  inference  at  all. 

The  following  corollaries  are  the  result  of  some  reflection,  and  no  in- 
considerable observation.  Some  of  them  may  be  inconsequential — for, 
in  fact,  the  premises  are  far  from  being  firmly  established. 

I.  Knowledge  (including  the  whole  circle  of  arts,  science,  and  litera- 

ture— every  thing  that  is  taught,  and  every  thing  that  is  learnt  by 
man),  like  wealth  and  powder,  begets  the  love  of  itself,  and  rapidly 
increases  the  thirst  of  accumulation. 

II.  Knowledge  being  the  parent  of  truth,  as  ignorance  is  the  parent  of 

error,  these  two  powers  must  be  in  a state  of  perpetual  antago- 
nism ; and,  in  proportion  as  the  former  (knowledge)  becomes  dif- 
fused, the  strong  holds  of  the  latter  (error)  must  be  successively 
invaded  and  overthrown. 

III.  But  when  wTe  reflect  on  the  countless  multitudes,  in  every  country, 
even  the  most  enlightened,  who  are  directly  or  indirectly  interested 
in  the  perpetuation  of  error,  whether  in  religion,  politics,  morals, 
legislation,  customs,  arts,  commerce,  arms — or  science  itself,  wre 
may  calculate  on  a long  and  arduous  struggle  between  knowledge 
and  truth  on  one  side,  and  ignorance  and  error  on  the  other — a 
struggle  that  will  not  be  terminated  without  many  and  dire  col- 
lisions, not  only  of  the  morale , but  also  of  the  physique!  Yet, 
however  protracted  the  conflict,  the  final  issue  cannot  be  doubtful. 


KNOWLEDGE. 


115 


There  are  now  no  unknown  regions,  whence  myriads  of  barbarians 
can  again  issue  forth  to  extinguish  the  lights  of  literature,  and  des- 
troy the  granaries  of  learning  and  the  arts.  Every  year,  day,  hour, 
illumines  some  spot  on  the  mental,  as  well  as  the  material  horizon, 
that  had  been  shrouded  in  darkness  since  the  Creation — and  con- 
sequently narrows  the  boundaries  of  superstition,  credulity,  and 
prejudice.  Every  year  removes  a film  from  the  mental  optics  of 
mankind,  and  shews  them  more  clearly,  the  paths  of  truth,  of 
justice — and  of  wisdom. 

IV.  As  the  facilities  of  diffusing  knowledge  are  daily  multiplying,  and 
as  the  avidity  for  information  augments  in  a still  greater  ratio,  no 
estimate  can  be  formed,  with  any  degree  of  precision,  how  deeply 
knowledge  may  yet  strike  its  roots  through  the  lower  orders  of 
society.  It  is  not  probable,  indeed,  that  education,  beyond  its 
mere  rudiments,  can  ever  permeate  the  lowest  orders  of  the  com- 
munity, for  very  obvious  reasons.  But  this  exception  will  make 
little  difference  in  the  final  result.  The  lowest  and  most  illiterate 
class  will  always  be  led  by  those  immediately  above  them — namely, 
the  middle  class.  This  class,  comprehending  numerous  orders, 
genera,  and  species,  will,  in  this  country,  influence,  if  not  guide, 
the  moral,  physical,  and  political  machine  of  government,  infinitely 
beyond  what  can  be  conceived  in  any  other  country  in  the  world. 
In  these  Islands,  the  great  mass  of  wealth  is  deposited  in  the 
middle  classes — but  so  generally  diffused  as  not,  by  its  agglome- 
ration, to  check  the  stimulus  to  ambition,  much  less  to  industry. 
It  will  hardly  be  argued  that  native  talent  or  capacity  is  confined 
to  any  particular  class  of  society — or  that  it  is  likely  to  be  deficient 
in  the  wealthy  orders  of  the  middle  ranks.  The  diffusion  of  know- 
ledge, therefore,  among  these  ranks,  will  generate  and  call  forth 
such  an  amount  of  moral  force  as  must  operate  on,  if  not  direct  the 
energies,  physical  and  moral,  of  the  nation. 

V.  It  is  said,  and  truly,  that  “ love  levels  all  distinctions.”  Know- 
ledge has  a very  strong  tendency  to  produce  the  same  effect. 
None  but  a wild  enthusiast  will  imagine  that  an  equality  in  intel- 
lect, learning,  wealth,  rank,  or  power,  can  ever  obtain  in  this 
world.  But  men  of  very  sober  intellects  and  extensive  observation 
of  mankind,  can  easily  conceive  that  a much  nearer  approach  to 
equality  than  now  exists*  may  yet  take  place.  If  this  propinquity 


116 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


to  an  equilibrium  should  ever  arrive,  it  will  be  through  the  agency 
of  education — and  its  result — knowledge. 

It  cannot  be  uninteresting  just  to  glance  at  the  probable  way  in 
which  this  moral  revolution,  hitherto  conceived  to  be  ideal,  may  be 
effected. 

Intellect  can  never  be  equalized  by  any  human  power.  But  it  is, 
perhaps,  more  equal  than  the  magnates  of  the  earth  are  disposed  to 
admit — and  education  will  draw  forth,  and  bring  into  the  market,  an 
immense  supply  which,  at  present,  moulders  in  obscurity.  Surmises  of 
this  kind  may  have  been  floating  in  the  mind  of  Gray,  when  pacing 
the  country  churchyard. 

“ Perhaps  in  this  neglected  spot  is  laid 

Some  heart  once  pregnant  with  Celestial  fire  ; 

Hands  that  the  rod  of  empire  might  have  sway’d. 

Or  waked  to  ecstasy  the  living  lyre : 

But  Knowledge  to  their  eyes  her  ample  page. 

Fraught  with  the  spoils  of  Time,  did  ne’er  unroll  ; 

Chill  Penury  repressed  their  noble  rage, 

And  froze  the  genial  current  of  the  soul.” 

But  talent,  though  not  created,  is  much  improved  by  culture,  as  the 
physical  constitution  is  fortified  by  exercise.  Even  Intellect,  then,  will 
be  much  more  equalized  in  a practical  point  of  view,  than  at  present, 
by  the  extension  of  education  and  the  aggregate  increase  of  knowledge. 

Learning. — It  may  be  asked,  why  should  not  some  men  soar  as  far 
beyond  their  contemporaries  in  learning,  when  that  learning  is  diffused, 
as  when  it  was  circumscribed  ? The  question  may  be  easily  answered. 
The  augmented  number  of  competitors  will  greatly  equalize  the  claims 
of  the  candidates  for  literary  or  scientific  fame.  Suppose,  out  of  a popu- 
lation of  a million,  there  were  not  more  than  five  hundred  who  had  the 
means  of  cultivating  literature  or  science  with  advantage.  It  is  probable 
that,  under  such  circumstances,  a dozen  or  two  would  be  pre-eminent, 
and  that  one  would  outstrip  all  the  others.  But  suppose  that  Jive 
thousand  out  of  the  million,  had  all  the  facilities  of  distinguishing  them- 
selves. It  is  extremely  probable  that  fifty,  or  even  five  hundred,  would 
be  so  nearly  on  a par,  that  no  one  would  rise  over  the  rest — 

velut  inter  ign&s 

Luna  minores. 

We  may  have  a literary  monarch ; but  we  shall  never  have  a monarch 
of  literature.  No.  Letters  will  come  back,  in  fact,  to  what  they -were 


WEALTH . 


117 


originally  in  name — a Republic.  The  tendency  to  this  state  may  be 
plainly  recognized,  even  now,  in  various  departments  of  learning  and 
science.  Let  us  instance  the  medical  profession.  We  shall  never  again 
see  a Harvey  or  a Hunter — a Baillie  or  a Cline — giants,  who  strode 
over  the  heads  of  their  brethren  of  the  day — monopolizers  of  fame  or 
fortune — each  a professional  prophet,  without  a touch  from  whose  magic 
wand,  or  golden  caduceus,  the  spirits  of  the  great  could  not,  with  dig- 
nity, descend  to  the  shades  below  ! And  why  should  we  not  have  the 
race  of  these  medical  monarchs  continued — these  beacons — these  colossi 
— these  “ rari  nantes  in  gurgite  vasto  ?”  Because  the  diffusion  of  edu- 
cation has  called  forth  an  aristocracy,  or  rather  a democracy  of  infor- 
mation, from  which  it  is  difficult  to  select  any  that  are  very  much  ele- 
vated above  those  of  the  same  zone  in  which  they  move.  The  same 
remark  will  apply,  with  more  or  less  force,  to  other  professions  and 
classes  of  society.  There  is  a greater  equilibrium  of  information  among 
them  now  than  there  ever  was  before — and  this  explains  why  the 
Augustan  age  of  England  appears  to  have  vanished.  It  is  not  because 
knowledge  has  decreased,  and  the  giants  of  literature  and  science  have 
dwindled  into  dwarfs  ; but  because  the  pigmies  have  sprung  up  into 
men,  and  the  giants  no  longer  appear  of  colossal  stature  by  comparison. 
Their  individual  importance  diminishes  in  proportion  as  their  aggregate 
number  augments.  This  will  be  more  and  more  apparent  every  year. 

Wealth. — That  education  and  knowledge  lead,  directly  or  indirectly, 
to  wealth,  needs  no  argument  to  prove.  It  is  true  that  many  indivi- 
duals, with  scarcely  the  rudiments  of  knowledge,  have  amassed  riches ; 
but  it  has  been  through  low  or  mechanical  avocations,  where  unwearied 
industry  and  rigid  economy  were  the  chief  requisites.  And  even  these 
individuals  could  never  attain  distinction,  unless  they  acquired  some  de- 
gree of  knowledge,  during  or  subsequent  to  the  realization  of  wealth. 
But  what  are  these,  when  compared  with  those  who  have  risen,  by  know- 
ledge and  talent,  from  the  lower  ranks  of  life  to  fame  and  fortune  ? The 
spread  of  knowledge,  then,  will  annually  pour  into  the  field  of  compe- 
tition, whether  in  divinity,  law,  physic,  commerce,  art,  or  science,  such 
multitudes  of  candidates  as  will  minutely  divide,  and  greatly  equalize  the 
golden  harvests.  In  the  general  scramble,  many  will  catch  something, 
though  few  will  catch  much.  As  in  the  case  of  knowledge  itself,  wealth 
will  not  only  be  increased  in  the  aggregate,  but  distributed  through 


118 


ECONOMY  OK  HEALTH. 


wider  circles  of  the  community.  No  doubt  it  will  still  predominate  in 
certain  zones,  but  these  will  grow  broader  and  broader — and  they  will 
present  galaxies  of  the  minor  stars,  rather  than  sparse  and  widely-dis- 
tant  luminaries  of  the  first  magnitude. 

Even  those  mighty  mounds  of  hereditary  wealth,  fortified,  as  they  are 
supposed  to  be,  by  the  impregnable  ramparts  of  pride  and  primogeniture, 
will  gradually  diminish  in  size,  and  descend  far  below  their  present  al- 
titude. Every  year  will  increase  the  difficulties  of  providing  for  the 
younger  branches  of  noble  families,  by  the  pressure  of  competition  and 
the  rigour  of  political  economy.  In  such  cases,  the  ties  of  nature  will 
prevail  over  the  laws  of  man — and  the  huge  ancestral  depots  must  dis- 
burse provision  for  the  hungry  descendants  of  ancient  mansions. 

Rank. — It  is  very  improbable  that  ranks  and  distinctions  will  be  le- 
velled by  education  and  knowledge.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  likely 
to  be  multiplied.  But  all  other  kinds  of  rank  and  distinction  except 
what  are  attained  by  talent,  integrity,  and  learning,  will  be  depreciated 
in  estimation.  Hereditary  rank  or  title,  without  wealth,  cannot  main- 
tain its  ancient  value,  where  education  and  knowledge  prevail ; and  we 
have  just  seen  that  wealth  itself  will  be  more  and  more  equalized  as  ci- 
vilization advances.  Even  the  circumstances  alluded  to,  under  the  head 
of  Wealth — the  difficulties  of  providing  for  the  junior  offspring  of  the 
nobility — will  tend,  in  some  measure,  to  equalize  rank,  by  annually  de- 
taching great  numbers  of  the  younger  scions  of  the  aristocracy  from  the 
higher  zones,  and  compelling  them  to  enter  the  arena  of  competition,  in 
various  professions  and  avocations,  with  more  humble,  but  perhaps  not 
less  able  candidates  for  riches  and  reputation.  Those  great  safety-valves 
— the  army,  navy,  church,  and  state — through  which  the  aristocratic 
redundancy  used  to  escape  so  freely,  and  thus  relieve  the  pressure  on 
family  finances,  will  henceforth  be  much  narrowed  by  imperious  eco- 
nomy and  popular  competition.  In  fine,  wherever  intelligence  spreads 
deep  and  wide  through  a community,  the  power  and  privileges  of  the 
patrician  will  be  abridged,  and  the  franchise  and  influence  of  the  ple- 
beian will  be  enlarged.  An  autocrat  is  a demi-god,  or  “ something 
more,”  holding  the  destinies  of  his  semi-civilized  hordes,  with  power 
over  life,  limb,  and  property  : — the  constitutional  monarch  is  only  the 
first  magistrate  of  a nation,  without  the  power  to  make  or  break  any  of 
those  laws  which  he  is  sworn  to  maintain  and  administer. 


FINAL  RESULTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


119 


The  foregoing  are  matters  of  demonstration  rather  than  of  specula- 
tion ; but  still  the  question  may  be  asked — what  will  be  the  result  of 
all  this  spread  of  education  and  knowledge,  as  respects  the  benefit  or 
happiness  of  man  ? Here  we  enter  the  region  of  imagination,  for  we 
have  no  real  precedent  in  history  to  guide  us.  As  I have  observed  be- 
fore, there  never  has  been  anything  like  a general  diffusion  of  education 
and  information,  moral,  scientific  or  political,  in  any  nation,  or  at  any 
period  of  the  world.  But  we  have  some  grounds  for  reasoning  on  the 
subject.  We  know  that  our  Creator  has  given  instinct  to  animals, 
which  limits  them  to  their  specific  functions  and  actions,  during  life, 
without  the  possibility  of  their  deviating  to  the  right,  or  to  the  left. 
The  bee,  the  ant,  and  the  beaver,  constructed  their  habitations  with 
as  much  skill,  ten  thousand,  years  ago,  as  at  the  present  moment.  But 
man  has  been  endowed  with  reason,  which  enables  him  to  improve — 
or,  at  all  events,  to  alter  his  condition.  Now,  when  we  see  such  wis- 
dom and  goodness  in  the  dispensations  of  Providence  throughout  the 
whole  Creation,  is  it  likely  that  God  should  have  given  man  the  faculty 
of  increasing  in  knowledge,  almost  without  limit,  for  other  than  bene- 
ficent purposes  ? — I cannot  believe  it.  But  there  is  no  unmixed  good 
in  this  world.  The  rains  that  fall  from  the  heavens  to  fertilize  the 
soil,  often  swell  into  torrents  that  leave  nothing  but  ruin  in  their  track. 
The  winds  that  purify  the  atmosphere  and  waft  our  commerce  from 
shore  to  shore,  not  seldom  acquire  the  fury  of  the  hurricane,  and  scat- 
ter destruction  over  earth  and  ocean.  Notwithstanding  all  the  be- 
nevolence and  wisdom  of  the  Almighty,  as  seen  in  his  works,  the 
great  majority  of  animated  beings,  from  the  zoophite  up  to  man,  are  not 
merely  permitted,  but  destined  to  destroy  their  fellow-creatures,  for  the 
support  of  their  own  existence  ! It  is  not,  therefore,  likely  that  such  a 
boon  as  knowledge  should  be  accorded  to  mankind,  without  a consi- 
derable alloy  of  evil.*  All  tendencies  towards  equality  among  mankind, 


* The  Press  is  the  great  engine  for  the  dissemination  of  knowledge — equal,  per- 
haps superior,  to  the  Schoolmaster — but  it  is  a passive  instrument,  and  may  be 
worked,  with  equal  power,  for  the  distribution  of  evil  as  of  good.  When  we  calcu- 
late the  amount  of  malignity  in  this  world,  as  an  active  agent,  and  the  extent  of 
ignorance,  as  a passive  recipient,  we  may  well  pause  and  meditate,  before  we  strike 
the  balance  between  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  an  unshackled  and  cheap 
Press.  That  the  latter  will  be  ultimately  beneficial  to  mankind,  I have  no  doubt ; 
but  if  it  be  not  fraught  with  considerable  evil,  at  first,  this  kingdom  will  be  very 
fortunate. 


120 


ECONOMY  OK  HEALTH. 


beget  discontent,  jealousy,  and  insubordination,  in  a greater  or  less  de- 
gree. It  cannot  well  be  otherwise,  where  there  are  numerous  and  al- 
most imperceptible  gradations  in  society.  Where  there  are  but  two 
grades — the  high  and  the  low — the  patrician  and  plebeian — there  jea- 
lousy will  not  so  much  obtain.  We  eye  with  composure  the  rank  and 
station  of  the  Monarch,  the  prince  of  the  blood,  or  even  the  peer  of  the 
realm  ; but  we  envy — we  almost  hate,  the  gradation  of  rank  immedi- 
ately above  us.  The  diffusion  of  knowledge  will  be  the  diffusion  of 
an  opinion — nay  a conviction — that  all  men  are  naturally  equal,  and 
that  talent,  learning,  and  character,  are  the  only  natural  distinctions. 
In  such  case,  it  is  clear  that  the  artificial  distinctions  of  hereditary  rank 
and  wealth  will  be  regarded  with  jealousy  and  discontent — and  that 
there  will  be  a perpetual  nisus,  or  endeavour  to  level  distinctions  not 
founded  on  natural  claims.  That  this  attempt  will  cause  a perpetual 
and  powerful  struggle  and  counteraction  on  the  part  of  the  privileged 
Orders  (as  they  have  been  denominated),  is  most  certain;  and  this  con- 
test will  last — for  ever  ! We  may  hope,  and  even  believe,  that  it  will 
be  all  for  the  benefit  of  mankind  ; but,  whether  it  be  for  good  or  for 
evil,  it  is  inevitable ! We  may  as  wrell  attempt  to  hurl  back  the  stream 
of  the  Nile  to  the  Nubian  Mountains — the  Rhine  to  the  Rhcetian  Alps 
— or  the  Ganges  to  the  Hymalaya,  as  to  stem  the  torrent  of  Knowledge, 
and  turn  it  back  into  the  stagnant  lake  of  Ignorance. 


EQUIPOISE  OF  THE  MAST  E R - PASSION  S , 


121 


SEVENTH  SEPTENNIAD. 

[42  to  49  years.'] 

Seven  times  Seven  ! Awful  multiple  ! This  is  the  crisis  of  human 
existence ; for,  however  we  may  conceal  it  from  others,  or  even  from 
ourselves,  the  decline  of  life  commences  with  the  Seventh  Septenniad. 
At  that  period,  the  tide  of  existence  has  swelled  to  its  utmost  volume, 
and  its  last  and  highest  wave  has  left  its  mark  on  the  craggy  rock  and 
the  golden  sands.  It  is  true  that,  wrhile  contemplating  the  ocean,  for 
some  time  after  the  ebb-tide  has  commenced,  we  do  not  remark  the  sub- 
sidence of  the  waters — unless  we  watch  the  shores  from  which  they 
recede.  There  we  will  perceive  indubitable  proofs  of  the  turn  of  the 
tide.  So  it  is  with  human  life.  For  some  time  after  the  meridian  of 
manhood,  we  recognize  not  the  decadence  of  the  stream — until  we  re- 
luctantly and  sorrowfully  remark  certain  changes  for  the  worse,  in  our 
corporeal — perhaps  also  in  our  mental  powers ! There  are,  even  in  this 
early  period  of  declension  from  the  meridian,  certain  admonitory  pheno- 
mena that  cannot  be  wholly  overlooked  by  the  most  thoughtless  indi- 
vidual. A grey  hair  will  obtrude  its  unwelcome  presence — and,  if 
plucked  out,  will  return  soon,  with  half  a- dozen  companions!  Pleasures 
of  all  kinds,  but  especially  of  a material  nature,  begin  to  lose  something 
of  their  exquisite  relish,  and  are  succeeded  by  something  more  than  mere 
satiety.  Bodily  exertions  begin  to  be,  not  only  curtailed  in  their  range 
or  amount,  but  the  period  of  recruit  becomes  proportionally  extended. 
Impressions  on  mind  and  body  are  less  vivid.  Our  wine  excites  us  less, 
and  even  the  delights  of  conviviality  and  intellectual  intercourse  expe- 
rience a diminution  of  intensity  ! 

It  is  in  the  Seventh  Septenniad,  too,  that  the  three  master-passions 
of  the  soul,  love,  ambition,  and  avarice — come  nearer  to  an  equipoise 
than  at  any  other  epoch.  These  passions  are  never,  indeed,  exactly 
equi-potent.  One  is  always  more  powerful  than  either  of  the  other  two 
— sometimes  stronger  than  both  together.  Thus,  in  youth,  love  pre- 
dominates— in  manhood,  ambition — in  age,  avarice.  Still,  it  is  in 
the  Seventh  Septenniad  that  the  antagonism  of  the  three  passions  comes 
nearest  to  an  equilibrium.  Ambition  has,  generally,  the  mastery. 
Love  has  lost  much  of  his  influence — and  Avarice,  under  various  masks, 

R 


122 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


as  domestic  economy,  desire  of  providing  for  a young  family,  &c.  &c. 
begins  to  pull  against  the  other  passions,  with  augmenting  force  and 
confidence.  Having  once  gained  strength,  this  passion  never  quits  the 
field  till  he  overcomes,  and  finally  extinguishes  one  or  both  of  his  anta- 
gonists ! 

It  is  towards  the  close  of  this  Septenniad,  also,  that  the  grand  cli- 
macteric of  woman  takes  place.  Forty-nine  is  an  important  epoch 
in  female  life — an  eventful  crisis,  which  often  turns  the  balance  between 
weal  and  woe — betwixt  steady  health  and  dangerous  disease  ! If  wo- 
man passes  this  period  unscathed,  she  stands  a good  chance  of  a serene 
and  quiet  descent  along  the  slope  of  existence  into  the  vale  of  years, 
where  the  last  debt  of  Nature  is  to  be  paid ! But  it  behoves  her  to  be 
on  her  guard  during  the  whole  of  the  Seventh  Septenniad,  and  not 
to  allow  fashionable  dissipation,  late  hours,  and  gossamer  dress,  to  ren- 
der her  grand  climacteric  the  unfavourable  crisis  of  her  fate. 


PATKO-PROTEIAN  MALADY. 

It  is  in  the  course  of  the  present  Septenniad — often  sooner — some- 
times later — that  mankind  (including  both  sexes  equally),  of  modern 
times,  get  introduced  to  a sinister  acquaintance,  that  embitters  many,  if 
not  most  of  the  remaining  years  of  their  lives.  It  is  a monster-malady 
of  comparatively  recent  origin.  No  name,  no  description  of  it,  is  found 
in  the  records  of  antiquity — or  even  of  the  middle  ages.  It  is  clearly 
the  offspring  of  civilization  and  refinement — of  sedentary  habits  and 
intellectual  culture — of  physical  deterioration  and  mental  perturbation 
— of  excitement  and  exhaustion — of  the  friction  (if  I am  allowed  such 
a term)  of  mind  on  matter,  and  of  matter  on  mind  ! It  is  not  the  pro- 
geny of  intemperance,  for  our  forefathers  were  more  intemperate  than 
we  are.  It  is  not  the  product  of  effeminacy,  as  far  as  indulgence  in 
pleasure  or  idleness  is  concerned — for  the  present  race  is  more  worn 
down  by  labour  and  care,  than  by  ease  and  dissipation.  Though  mil- 
lions have  felt  it,  no  one  can  describe  it — though  thousands  have  stu- 
died it,  no  one  has  been  able  to  frame  for  it  an  accurate  definition.  And 
no  wonder.  It  is  a Proteus  which  assumes  the  form,  and  usurps  the 
attributes  of  almost  every  malady,  mental  and  corporeal,  that  has 
scourged  the  human  race  since  the  creation  of  the  world  ! But  this  is 
not  all.  It  disdains  the  character  of  being  merely  an  imitator.  It 


P AT  11 0 -PR O IE  1 AN  M VLAD Y . 


123 


takes  on  shapes  and  attitudes  that  have  no  prototypes  in  human  afflic- 
tions. Nor  need  this  excite  surprise.  We  have  imported,  through  the 
medium  of  our  boundless  colonization,  the  constitutions  and  maladies 
of  the  East  and  of  the  West,  and  incorporated  them  with  those  of  our 
own.  Every  day  and  hour,  the  experienced  eye  can  detect  in  the  streets 
of  London,  the  Hindoo  features,  blanched  by  our  skies  of  their  ochery 
complexion — the  Negro  nose  and  lips,  deprived,  by  the  same  agents,  of 
their  original  companions,  the  ^Ethiopian  hue  and  woolly  locks.  These, 
however,  would  have  been  of  little  consequence,  had  we  not  imported 
with  them,  the  bile  and  the  belly-ache — the  Hindostannee  liver  and  the 
Caribbean  spleen — the  phlegm  of  the  North  and  the  choler  of  the  South. 
In  a country  like  this,  where  talent  and  industry — perhaps  less  estimable 
qualities  also — are  constantly  forcing  up  the  peasant  and  artisan  into 
the  baronetcy  and  the  peerage — and  where  money  and  mercenary 
motives  are  perpetually  mingling  the  blood  of  the  plebeian  and  patri- 
cian, we  cannot  wonder  at  the  hybrid  births  of  strange  and  anomalous 
disorders,  totally  unknown  in  former  times. 

The  attempts  to  seize  and  imprison  the  fabled  Proteus  of  old,  were 
not  more  numerous  or  less  successful,  than  those  that  have  been  made 
to  trace  the  origin,  ascertain  the  seat,  and  analyze  the  character  of  this 
Patho-Proteus,  or  multiform  malady,  of  our  own  times.  It  has  been 
attributed  to  the  liver,  the  stomach,  the  spleen,  the  brain,  the  spinal- 
marrow,  the  nerves,  the  colon,  &c.  each  physician  drawing  the  Proteian 
fiend  in  the  shape  and  hue  which  it  most  frequently  assumed  under  his 
own  observance.  Hence  its  various  designations.  Indigestion,  hepatitis, 
dyspepsia,  nervous  irritability,  bilious  disorder,  hypochondriasis,  &c.  &c. 
have,  each  in  its  turn,  been  the  name  affixed  to  the  infirmity.  It  is  not 
difficult  to  discover  the  clue  to  this  diversity  of  designations.  The  Patho- 
Proteian  affliction  is  not  perhaps,  in  strict  language,  an  entity — a 
single  disease  sent  down  from  Heaven,  or  springing  from  the  bowels  of 
the  earth ; but  rather  a morbid  constitution  or  disposition,  produced 
by  the  various  moral  and  physical  causes  above  alluded  to,  and  moulding 
numerous  other  maladies  into  its  own  semblance.  Although  the  mul- 
titudinous causes  of  this  evil  must  operate  in  a great  variety  of  ways ; 
yet  there  are  two  principal  channels  through  which  it  flows  upon  man 
and  woman,  much  more  frequently  than  through  any  others  ; — namely, 
the  brain  and  the  stomach — but  chiefly  the  former.  The  moral  im- 
pressions on  the  brain  and  nerves  are  infinitely  more  injurious  than  the 
physical  impressions  of  food  and  drink,  however  improper,  on  the  sto- 


124 


ECONOMY  OK  HEALTH. 


mach.  The  multifarious  relations  of  man  with  the  world  around  him, 
in  the  present  sera  of  social  life,  are  such  as  must  inevitably  keep  up  a 
constant  source  of  perturbation,  if  not  irritation ; and  this  trouble  of 
mind  is  not  solely,  or  even  chiefly,  expended  on  the  organ  of  the  mind 
— viz.  the  brain,  and  its  appendages,  the  nerves — but  upon  the  organs 
of  the  body  most  intimately  associated  with  the  brain — namely,  the 
digestive  organs,  including  the  stomach,  liver,  and  bowels. 

Let  us  exemplify  this.  A man  receives  a letter  communicating  a piece 
of  astounding  intelligence-great  loss  of  property,  or  death  of  a child, 
wife,  or  parent.  The  mind,  the  brain,  the  nervous  system,  are  all  agi- 
tated and  disturbed.  But  the  evil  does  not  rest  here.  The  organs  not 
immediately  under  the  will,  or  directly  connected  with  the  intellectual 
portion  of  our  frame — the  organs  of  digestion,  circulation,  nutrition,  &c. 
are  all  consecutively  disturbed,  and  their  functions  disordered.  These 
corporeal  maladies  are  those  which  naturally  attract  most  the  sufferer’s 
attention.  He  seldom  comprehends,  or  even  suspects,  the  nature  and 
agency  of  the  moral  cause.  He  flies  to  physic — and  it  may  very  easily 
be  conceived  that  he  often  flies  to  it  in  vain  ! 

But  it  will  probably  be  remarked  that  great  events  and  disasters  befall 
only  a few,  comparatively  speaking — and  those  not  often.  This  is  true. 
But  the  multiplicity  and  frequency  of  minor  evils  are  far  more  than 
equivalent  to  the  intensity  and  rarity  of  the  greater  ones.  Now  those 
who  are  even  moderately  acquainted  with  the  world,  and  with  human 
nature,  are  wrell  convinced  that  there  is  scarcely  an  individual,  from  the 
meanest  mendicant  to  the  most  absolute  monarch,  who  does  not  daily 
and  almost  hourly  experience  moral  vexations,  perturbations,  or  dis- 
quietudes of  mind,  which  sooner  or  later  disturb  the  functions  of  the 
body  !* 

In  what,  then,  does  the  morbid  constitution  or  disposition,  the  parent 
of  the  Proteian  malady,  consist  ? This  is  no  unimportant  inquiry . The 


* The  French  Revolution  produced  whole  classes  of  diseases — especially  those  of 
the  heart.  These  are  now  rapidly  multiplying  from  the  excitement  of  politics.  Ex- 
citement is  a word  not  sufficiently  expressive.  The  antipathy  which  exists  now 
between  people  of  different  politics  is  such,  that  health  is  incompatible  with  its 
continuance.  One  half  of  the  present  violent  and  ultra  politicians  will  assuredly  die 
of  disease  of  the  heart,  or  of  some  great  internal  organ.  Scarcely  a day  or  even 
an  hour — passes  without  my  seeing  exemplifications  of  this  remark  1 If  the  votaries 
of  political  ambition  could  see  with  me  a few  of  the  effects  of  that  ambition  or 
even  of  that  perturbation  of  mind  attendant  on  political  struggles,  they  would  fly, 
in  dismay,  from  the  baleful  contest ! 


PAT  M O - P ROTE  I A N MALADY. 


125 


nature  of  disorders  may  often  be  ascertained  by  the  causes  that  produce 
them.  These  causes,  in  the  present  case,  may  be  all,  or  nearly  all,  mar- 
shalled under  four  heads  or  representatives — anxiety  of  mind — intensity 
of  thought — sedentary  avocations,  and  plenary  indulgence.  The  last 
but  one  includes,  of  course,  deficiency  of  exercise.  Now,  although 
some  of  these,  as  intensity  of  thought,  may  improve  the  intellectual 
powers,  they  all,  without  exception,  tend  to  weaken  the  body.  But  de- 
bility is  the  parent  of  irritability — and  morbid  or  inordinate  irritability, 
susceptibility,  or  sensibility,  is  the  distinctive  characteristic  of  the  wide- 
spread malady  under  consideration.  Thus,  moral  vicissitudes,  troubles, 
or  vexations,  which,  in  a healthy  and  strong  frame  of  mind  and  body, 
would  make  but  a slight  impression,  will,  under  the  influence  of  the 
Patho-Proteian  constitution,  so  ruffle  the  temper  and  agitate  the  soul, 
that  every  function  of  the  human  machine  will  be  disordered.  This  re- 
sults from  the  inordinate  sensibility  of  the  brain  and  nervous  system 
generally.  And  although  the  great  organs  of  digestion,  nutrition,  cir- 
culation, &c.  are  wisely  removed  from  under  the  direct  and  immediate 
influence  of  mental  perturbations  from  moral  causes  ; yet,  unfortunately, 
they  are  destined  to  participate  in  the  afflictions  of  their  more  intellec- 
tual associates,  and  suffer  most  severely  in  the  conflict ! They  are  thus 
rendered  highly  susceptible,  by  moral  evils,  to  the  impression  of  physical 
ones. 

The  digestive  organs  are  almost  the  only  internal  organs  which  are 
daily  and  hourly  exposed  to  the  direct  contact  and  agency  of  external 
matters.  The  introduction  of  atmospheric  air  into  the  lungs  is  the  chief 
exception — if  it  be  one.  Now  when  we  try  to  enumerate  the  variety  of 
materials  drawn  from  the  animal  and  vegetable  world  for  pampering  the 
appetite  of  man — especially  in  highly  civilized  life — we  are  lost  and 
bewildered  in  the  fruitless  attempt.  A single  glance  round  the  shelves 
of  an  Italian  warehouse,  in  Piccadilly  or  the  Strand,  must  compel  any 
one  to  admit  that  the  powers  of  the  human  stomach  are — prodigious  ! 
The  pickles  and  the  preserves,  the  chillies  and  the  condiments,  the 
Scandinavian  tongues  and  Westphalian  hams — but,  above  all,  the 
sausages  of  Bologna  and  Germany,  would,  alone,  poison  the  vulture, 
the  shark,  and  the  jackall.  Or,  if  they  did  not  kill  direct  these  natural 
gourmands,  they  would,  most  assuredly,  people  the  air,  the  ocean,  and 
the  wild  woods,  with  as  exquisite  dyspeptics — perhaps  hypochondriacs 
— as  ever  paced  St.  James’s  Street,  or  made  the  grand  tour  of  Hyde- 


126 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


Park,  under  the  full  influence  of  the  blue  devils.  It  may  be  true,  that 
the  stomachs  of  our  ancestors  were  stronger  than  the  gizzard  of  an 
ostrich.  But  it  is  certain  that  we,  their  degenerate  offspring,  have  no 
such  powers  of  digestion.  On  the  contrary,  the  vast  majority  of  mo- 
derns, high  and  low,  complain  that  they  cannot  digest  even  the  plainest 
food,  without  great  and  daily  torment ! And  how  or  why  is  this  ? 
Because  the  nerves  of  their  digestive  organs,  participating  in  the  general 
irritability,  susceptibility,  or  sensibility  of  the  whole  nervous  system, 
cannot  bear  the  presence  of  food,  which  man  and  animals,  in  a state  of 
nature  and  strong  health,  can  turn,  with  ease,  into  the  blandest  nutri- 
ment. 

It  is  well  known  to  every  physiologist  that  the  great  internal  organs, 
the  heart,  liver,  stomach,  &c.  perform  their  vital  functions  independent 
of  the  will,  being  supplied  by  the  ganglionic  nerves,  a class  entirely  dis- 
tinct from  those  emanating  from  the  brain  and  spine,  which  are  under 
the  guidance  of  the  mind.  These  ganglionic  organs  not  only  refuse  to 
tell  us  how  they  perform  their  operations  in  their  hidden  laboratories, 
but  when  they  are  at  work.  Thus,  in  a state  of  health,  we  have  no 
conscious  sensations  from  the  vital  functions  of  the  circulation,  respira- 
tion, digestion,  assimilation,  secretion,  &c.  The  heart  feels  the  presence 
of  the  blood,  but  keeps  that  feeling  to  itself.  The  lungs  feel  the  influ- 
ence of  atmospheric  air,  but  gives  the  mind  no  intimation  of  such  feel- 
ing. The  stomach  is  alive  to  the  presence  of  food,  and  performs  the 
important  task  of  digestion,  but  troubles  not  the  intellect  with  any  in- 
timation of  its  proceedings.  And  so  of  all  the  other  internal  organs. 
This  is  a wise  provision  of  Nature  ; or  rather  of  Nature’s  God.  But 
intercourse  between  the  two  systems  of  nerves — the  nerves  of  sense  and 
the  nerves  of  the  internal  organs — is  not  absolutely  prohibited.  They 
mutually  correspond,  in  a state  of  health,  without  our  consciousness, 
and  still  more,  without  pain  or  inconvenience.  But  let  us  over- educate, 
as  it  were — that  is,  let  us  pamper  the  digestive  organs,  for  example,  by 
unnatural  stimulation ; — or,  let  these  said  organs  be  long  and  strongly 
associated,  in  sympathy,  with  excitement  of  the  intellect,  and  its  organ, 
the  brain — and  what  is  the  consequence  ? The  stomach  becomes,  as  it 
were,  intellectualized — that  is,  denaturalized; — so  that  its  sensibility 
rises  from  the  organic  or  unconscious,  to  the  animal  or  conscious  state  of 
feeling!  Then  it  is  that  the  process  of  digestion  not  only  becomes 
cognizable  to  our  senses — but  exceedingly  painful. 


PATHO-PR  OT  El  AN  M A LA  T)  Y . 


127 


When  the  stomach  has  thus  acquired  an  additional  sense — a sense 
properly  appertaining  to  a superior  organ,  the  organ  of  the  mind — the 
owner  of  that  stomach  has  incurred  a penalty,  which  will  require  months 
or  years  for  exoneration.  He  has  over-educated  an  organ  which  would 
have  performed  its  function  much  better  in  its  pristine  ignorance.  It  is 
like  the  cook  who  studies  transcendental  chemistry — and  spoils  the  soup 
— or  the  tailors  of  Laputa,  who  cut  their  coats  on  philosophical  prin- 
ciples, and  never  made  them  to  fit  any  of  their  customers.  The  stomach 
has  tasted  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge,  presented  by  the  brain — 
and  both  parties  are  turned  out  of  the  Garden  of  Eden,  to  suffer  for  their 
transgressions  during  the  remainder  of  their  lives ! Whether  or  not 
mutual  recriminations  took  place  between  the  first  participators  in  guilt, 
I will  not  pretend  to  say.  Such  recriminations  are  the  natural  conse- 
quences of  sin  in  our  present  state  of  existence.  But,  be  that  as  it  may, 
I can  answer  for  this  fact,  that  the  stomach  repays,  with  usurious  in- 
terest, the  injuries  and  sufferings  which  it  has  received  from  its  con- 
temporary and  co-partner — the  brain. 

When  the  malady  in  question  has  attained  to  a certain  extent,  the 
stomach  not  only  reflects  back  on  the  organ  of  the  mind,  a large  share 
of  those  afflictions  which  it  had  sustained  from  that  quarter  ; but,  in 
consequence  of  its  extensive  chain  of  sympathies  with  various  other 
organs  of  its  own  class,  as  the  liver,  kidneys,  bowels,  heart — in  short, 
the  whole  of  those  organs  supplied  by  the  ganglionic  nerves — it  weaves 
a tissue  of  disorders  which  no  human  skill  can  unravel — it  constructs  a 
labyrinth  of  infirmities  through  which  no  clue  can  guide  us — it  fills  an 
Augean  stable  with  evils,  which  few  rivers,  except  that  of  Lethe,  can 
cleanse  away ! 

But  the  action  and  re- action  of  the  organ  of  the  mind  and  the  great 
organs  of  the  ganglionic  system,  one  on  another,  are  not  the  only  hos- 
tilities carried  on  in  this  condition  of  the  constitution.  Let  it  be  re- 
membered that  the  whole  of  the  alimentary  canal,  from  one  extremity 
to  the  other,  is  studded  with  myriads  of  glands,  whose  secretions  are 
under  the  influence  of  the  nerves  distributed  to  them.  Now  each  minute 
filament  of  nerve  participates  in  the  general  disorder  of  the  great  nervous 
centres — and  the  secretions  of  the  smallest  follicle  are  thus  vitiated, 
and  become  the  prolific  source  of  new  irritations  reflected  back  on  the 
whole  nervous  system,  and  ultimately  on  the  mind  itself. 

When  the  morbid  circle  of  association  between  the  mental  and  cor- 


128 


ECONOMY  OP  HEALTH. 


poreal  organs  and  functions  is  once  formed,  it  is  extremely  difficult  to 
discover  the  starting-point  of  any  one  of  the  various  maladies  that  pre- 
sent themselves,  under  such  circumstances.  For  the  sensations  of  body 
and  mind  springing  from  this  source,  there  is  no  vocabulary.  The  pa- 
tient is  unable  to  describe  them — the  practitioner  to  understand  them  ; 
and  thus  a whole  class  of  them  has  got  the  appellations  of  “ vapours,” 
“hypochondriasis,”  “ maladies  imaginaires,”  &c.  Yet  everyone  of  them 
has  its  corporeal  seat,  however  moral  or  intellectual  may  have  been  its 
origin.  Even  those  that  appear  to  be  purely  mental,  as  monomania, 
spectral  illusions,  and  general  insanity  itself,  are  dependent  on,  or  con- 
nected with,  some  derangement  of  structure  or  function  in  the  material 
fabric.  I could  prove  this  by  numerous  cases,  but  dare  not  lay  open  the 
secrets  of  the  prison-house.  One  memorable  case,  however,  which  could 
not  be  concealed  from  the  world,  may  here  be  adverted  to,  as  an  example. 
It  is  the  case  of  the  unfortunate  gentleman  who  destroyed  his  life  by 
Prussic  acid  in  Regent- street,  on  the  22d  November,  1835,  and  whose 
death  caused  a strong  sensation  at  the  time. 

This  gentleman  (Mr.  Me  Kerrell)  had  spent  nearly  30  years  in  India 
— rose  to  a prominent  station  in  the  civil  service  of  the  Company — and 
realized  an  ample  fortune.  He  returned  to  his  native  land,  without  much 
apparent  injury  of  constitution,  expecting,  no  doubt,  to  crown  a youth  of 
toil  with  an  age  of  enjoyment.  But  the  daemon  of  ambition  crossed  his 
path,  and  the  reform  bill  opened  a prospect  which  prudence  or  philo- 
sophy could  not  resist ! The  British  senate — that  splendid  meteor 
which  has  lured  so  many  gallant  barks  into  shoals  and  quicksands,  drew 
this  unfortunate  victim  from  the  enjoyment  of  competence,  and  the  pur- 
suit of  health  and  happiness,  into  the  vortex  of  a contested  election ! 
Paisley  was  to  him  what  Pharsalia  was  to  Pompey ! He  went  through 
fatigues  of  body  and  anxieties  of  mind  that  exhausted  his  strongest 
friends.  But  the  issue  was  unsuccessful,  and  the  event  was  tragical. 
From  that  time,  the  even  tenor  of  his  mind  was  lost,  and  his  nervous 
system  was  unpoised.  A strange  illusion  arose,  and  haunted  his  imagi- 
nation every  second  day.  The  secret  struggled  long  in  his  breast — and 
was  never  revealed  but  to  myself — and  that  under  a promise  of  inviolable 
secrecy.  The  fabled  horrors  of  heathen  hells  were  trifles  compared  with 
the  tortures  which  this  poor  wretch  endured — and  that  without  the 
smallest  particle  of  moral  guilt ! 

For  some  time,  the  illusion  appeared  to  be  a reality — at  least  on  the 


REMARKABLE  CASE  OF  MONOMANIA. 


129 


alternate  days — but,  afterwards,  he  became  satisfied,  on  the  good  days, 
that  it  was  a phantom,  having  no  real  existence  but  in  a disordered  ima- 
gination. Still  later,  he  became  sensible  that  he  laboured,  on  alternate 
days,  under  monomania,  or  partial  insanity — and  this  reflection  added 
one  more,  and  a very  poignant,  sting  to  his  accumulated  miseries ! 

His  sufferings  were  of  two  kinds — bodily  and  mental.  He  awoke 
every  second  morning,  under  a pressure  of  horrible  feelings,  which  he 
could  neither  account  for,  nor  describe ! Common  pain,  though  of  the 
most  excruciating  kind,  would  have  been  gladly  accepted  in  lieu  of  these 
terrible  sensations.  With  these  was  associated  the  illusion,  which  ne- 
ver, for  a moment,  during  the  whole  of  that  day,  ceased  to  torture  his 
imagination  and  blast  his  sight  by  its  scowling  form  ! The  day  was  an 
age  of  agony.  Night  and  sleep  brought  a temporary  oblivion  of  his 
woes — and  he  awoke  the  next  morning,  free  from  the  illusion,  and  com- 
paratively free  from  the  indescribable  morbid  feelings  of  the  body.  But 
contemplation  on  the  past,  and  anticipation  of  the  future,  rendered  life 
but  little  desirable,  though  his  religious  and  moral  feelings  always  re- 
pudiated (so  he  alleged)  the  idea  of  suicide.  The  history  of  this  case 
would  furnish  materials  for  a tragical  romance,  founded,  in  every  par- 
ticular, on  fact — if  the  term  romance  could  be  properly  applied  to  such 
a narrative. 

Worn  out  by  mental  horrors  and  corporeal  miseries,  this  most  pitiable 
gentleman  put  an  end  to  his  sufferings,  on  the  day  of  the  illusion,  by 
taking  nearly  two  ounces  of  prussic  acid.  He  left  such  unequivocal 
testimonies  of  a sound  mind  behind  him,  in  the  shape  of  written  docu- 
ments and  oral  communications,  on  the  day  of  his  decease,  that  a verdict 
of  felo-de-se  would  have,  assuredly,  been  pronounced  by  a Coroner’s 
jury,  had  I not  stepped  forward  and  proved  the  infirmity  of  the  deceased. 
I revealed  not  the  nature  of  the  illusion — the  only  point  of  secrecy  en- 
joined by  my  patient — but  I preserved  a property  of  seventy  thousand 
pounds  from  sequestration,  and  warded  off  a moral  and  religious  stigma 
from  the  memory  of  the  dead. 

The  examination  of  the  body,  after  death,  disclosed  some  of  the  most 
remarkable  phenomena  that  were  ever  witnessed  on  dissection.  The 
whole  history  and  post-mortem  inspection  have  been  laid  before  the  me- 
dical profession,  through  the  proper  channels.  It  may  suffice  to  men- 
tion here,  that  there  is  a pair  of  nerves  in  the  body  (the  par  vagum) 
holding  intercourse  between  the  seat  of  intellect  and  the  great  involun- 


130 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


tary  organs  of  the  chest  and  abdomen,  viz.  the  heart,  lungs,  stomach, 
&c.  Though  it  rises  in  the  brain  (the  organ  of  the  mind)  it  is  distri- 
buted to  various  internal  organs  that  are  not  under  our  control.  It  is, 
therefore,  a great  intermediate  agent  of  communication  between  the  soul 
and  the  body — in  other  words,  between  mind  and  matter.  On  this  nerve 
had  formed  a concretion,  of  stony  hardness,  with  jagged  points,  as  sharp 
as  needles — growing  and  piercing  into  the  substance  of  the  nerve  itself ! 
— All  the  organs  to  which  this  most  important  nerve  distributed  its  in- 
fluence, were  more  or  less  diseased.  The  disorders  of  these  organs,  and 
of  the  nerve  itself,  had,  no  doubt,  re-acted  on  the  brain,  and  thus  pro- 
duced the  illusion  of  the  mind.* 

But  it  may  be  asked,  why,  if  the  causes  were  permanent,  should  the 
effects  be  periodical  ? The  case  is  remarkable,  but  by  no  means  singu- 
lar. There  are  many  similitudes  in  medical  science.  The  malaria  of 
the  fen  is  inhaled  every  day,  yet  produces  an  ague  only  every  second 
day.  It  is  the  same  with  many  other  agents,  as  well  as  their  disorders. 

But  the  chief  reason  for  the  introduction  of  this  melancholy  case  is 
yet  to  be  stated.  All  the  organic  changes,  including  the  concretion  on 
the  pneumo- gastric  nerve,  must  have  existed  for  many  years — long  be- 
fore this  gentleman  returned  to  Europe,  and  yet  without  producing 
much  inconvenience.  At  the  Paisley  election  he  tired  out  some  of  his 
most  powerful  friends,  in  excessive  labour  of  body  and  mind ; conse- 
quently, his  health  could  not  have  been  much  impaired  at  that  time.  But 
the  moral  causes  had  not  then  come  into  play,  and  the  physical  ones  were 
in  abeyance.  No  sooner,  however,  did  ambition  take  possession  of  the 
mind,  than  the  train  was  laid  for  the  explosion  of  bodily,  as  well  as 
mental  disorder.  Blighted  hopes,  disappointments,  and  losses,  called  into 
fatal  activity  diseases  which  might  long  have  remained  quiescent — and 
from  the  date  of  the  unsuccessful  contest,  the  tenor  of  the  mind  was 
broken — to  be  ultimately  wrecked  in  suicide  ! 

The  present  case,  though  an  extraordinary  one  in  some  respects,  is 
exceedingly  common  in  others.  Physical,  that  is,  bodily  disorders,  are 
either  called  into  existence,  or  into  activity,  by  mental  disquietude,  so 
generally,  that  the  rule  becomes  almost  absolute.  Re-action  of  the 


* Had  I time — or  rather  had  I talent — I could  construct  a second  Frankenstein 
from  the  history  of  this  case — without  any  fiction — without  any  of  the  preposterous 
supernaturalities  of  that  famous  romance. 


RELIGIOUS  MONOMANIA. 


131 


body  on  the  mind  is,  no  doubt,  frequent ; but  the  body  suffers  more  often 
from  the  mind,  than  the  mind  from  the  body.  And  when  mind  is 
afflicted  by  matter,  it  is  generally  where  the  corporeal  frame  has  first 
suffered  from  moral  miseries. 

Religious  monomania  may  be  ranked  amongst  the  most  dire  afflic- 
tions of  humanity.  It  is,  according  to  my  observation,  more  frequent 
in  females  than  in  males,  and  is  not  confined  to  any  age.  I have  seen 
instances  of  it  under  the  age  of  twenty-four  years.  We  can  generally 
trace  it,  especially  in  women,  to  the  enthusiastic  harangues — for  they 
hardly  deserve  the  name  of  sermons, — delivered  by  visionary,  fanatic,  and 
ultra- evangelical  preachers.  These  personages,  who  take  upon  them- 
selves to — 

“ Deal  damnation  round  the  land,” 

do  more  mischief  than  they  are  aware  of.  They  too  often  represent  the 
omnipotent  and  benevolent  Deity — the  Creator  and  maintainer  of  the 
Universe — as  an  inexorable  judge,  visiting  the  slightest  foibles  or  failings 
of  frail  mortals,  with  everlasting  punishment  of  the  most  horrible 
kind  ! Upon  the  sensitive  minds  of  weak  females  these  fearful  denun- 
ciations, ex  cathedra , make  a most  powerful  impression,  and  not  seldom 
impair  the  seat  of  reason  ! A nervous  and  sedentary  female,  for  in- 
stance, fixes  upon  some  real  or  imaginary  delinquency  of  her  life,  and, 
by  dwelling  upon  it,  soon  magnifies  it  into  an  enormous  sin — and  ulti- 
mately into  guilt  of  an  unpardonable  character  ! Then  come — horrors, 
despair,  and  desperation — terrores  magicos,  portentaque  Thessala ! She 
represents  herself,  even  to  her  friends,  as  a reprobate  who  is  placed 
beyond  the  pale  of  mercy,  and  condemned  to  everlasting  tortures  in 
the  world  to  come ! This  one  consideration  absorbs  all  others.  No 
topic  but  this  can  engage  her  attention  for  a moment,  and  it  is  per- 
fectly useless  to  reason  with  her,  or  attempt  by  arguments  to  divert 
her  reflections  from  this  doleful  subject.  This  wretched  state  lapses 
generally  into  premeditations  on  suicide — too  often  into  the  fatal  act 
itself!  It  is  not  a little  curious  that  the  individual,  who  fancies  her- 
self doomed  to  unutterable  tortures  and  indescribable  punishments  af- 
ter death,  should  yet  desire  the  termination  of  existence,  and  even 
anticipate  Nature  by  self-destruction ! It  would  seem,  in  these  cases, 
that  the  mere  contemplation  of  an  imaginary  evil  was  worse  to  bear 
than  the  real  evil  itself!  Hence  the  wretched  monomaniac  rushes 
on  death,  the  consummation  of  his  miseries,  rather  than  live  in  per- 
petual apprehension  of  them  ! — I have  known  a young  lady  starve  her- 


132 


ECONOMY  OF.  HEALTH. 


self  to  death  from  religious  monomania — another  fall  into  fatal  atro- 
phy— and  a third  take  poison — all  under  the  firm  conviction  that  their 
sins  were  unpardonable,  and  that  they  were  doomed  to  eternal  punish- 
ment ! There  are  many  instances  on  record,  where  the  monomaniac 
lacks  courage  to  commit  suicide,  or  cannot  make  up  the  mind  as  to  the 
means  of  accomplishing  it : — under  which  circumstances,  they  have 
committed  capital  crimes,  with  the  view  of  being  capitally  punished. 

It  behoves  parents  to  ponder  on  the  kind  of  religious  instruction 
which  their  pastors  impart  to  their  children — especially  to  sensitive 
females.  It  is  not  my  wish  or  my  province  to  trench  on  the  confines 
of  the  metaphysician — much  less  of  the  divine  ; but,  as  a physician, 
I may  perhaps  be  permitted  to  express  my  conviction  that  religious 
discourses  were  not  intended  to  excite  and  inflame  the  imagina- 
tion, but  to  improve  the  judgment,  control  the  passions,  and  check  the 
evil  propensities  of  human  nature — and  all  this  by  representing  the 
Deity  and  the  Redeemer  as  beneficent  and  merciful — not  as  stern  and 
relentless  judges  of  frail  humanity  ! Those  extravagant  and  phrenzied 
harangues  from  the  pulpit  which  throw  the  female  auditory  of  the  pews 
into  hysterics  or  ecstacies,  are  conducive  to  any  thing  but  happiness  on 
earth — whatever  may  be  their  influence  on  our  state  or  condition  beyond 
the  grave.  Many  are  the  instances  which  I have  seen  of  their  pernicious 
consequences  on  the  health,  the  intellects,  and  the  peace  of  mind  of 
most  amiable  individuals  here  below. 

I have  already  observed  that  when  religious  monomania  has  seized 
the  human  mind,  it  is  almost  entirely  useless  to  reason  with  the  unhappy 
victim.  The  organ  of  the  mind,  or  some  other  corporeal  structure  with 
which  the  brain  sympathizes,  has  become  disordered,  and  it  is  to  that 
we  must  direct  our  attention  chiefly.  Moral  means  and  soothing  treat- 
ment combine  with,  and  indeed  are  part  and  parcel  of,  the  most  rational 
and  successful  physical  management  of  the  insane,  whether  the  mental 
derangement  be  partial  or  general. — But  to  return  from  this  subject. 

Ambition  then — that  ardent  desire,  that  incessant  struggle  to  be,  or  to 
appear,  greater  than  we  are — or  what  others  are,  adds  its  powerful  quota 
to  the  sum  total  of  causes  that  produce  the  PATHo-Proteian  scourge. 
Ambition  is  not  bounded  to  any  particular  rank,  or  confined  to  any  par- 
ticular classes,  but  pervades  every  ramification  of  society.  It  is  not  en- 
tirely extinguished  in  servitude  or  beggary  ! I am  inclined  to  think  that 
it  does  not  diminish,  but  rather  that  it  increases,  as  we  descend  along  the 
scale  of  rank  and  wealth — at  least  to  a certain  extent. 


AMBITION A CAUSE  OF  THE  PATHO-PROTEUS. 


133 


The  wife  and  daughters  of  the  jolly  butcher  in  Bond- street,  have  not 
less  ambition  to  outshine,  in  chintz  and  China,  the  wife  and  daughters  of 
their  opposite  neighbour,  the  cheesemonger,  than  have  their  aristocratic 
customers,  in  Grosvenor- square,  to  out-flank  and  rout  their  fashionable 
friends,  in  the  columns  of  the  Morning  Post. 

In  fine,  throughout  every  link  in  the  vast  chain  of  society — from  the 
court  and  the  cabinet,  down  to  the  counter  and  the  cottage — this  worst 
species  of  ambition  is  to  be  found  ! It  drugs  the  cup  of  enjoyment  which 
is  at  our  lips,  infusing  into  it  a thirst  for  that  which  is  not  in  our  pos- 
session. This  thirst,  it  is  true,  carries  with  it  its  own  immediate  punish- 
ment— because  few  can  have  it  slaked;  but  the  ulterior  sufferings 
entailed  on  the  victims  of  ambition,  are  of  a deeper  die,  and  graver 
grade — the  dire  inflictions  of  the  Proteian  malady  ! 

These,  however,  are  evils  of  our  own  seeking  or  of  our  own  creation. 
But,  in  the  present  state  of  civilization  and  refinement,  there  are  hosts 
of  others  which  we  cannot  or  will  not  avoid.  The  cares  of  families — the 
difficulty  of  providing  for  our  offspring — the  heart-burnings  occasioned 
by  the  waywardness  of  children — and  the  thousand  anxieties  which  in- 
trude themselves,  independently  of  any  misconduct  on  our  own  parts,  are 
now  multiplied  to  an  incalculable  extent,  and  have  already  introduced 
new  and  undescribed  miseries  and  maladies,  that  are  constantly  on  the 
increase. 

There  are  numerous  causes  of  this  modern  scourge,  which  cannot  well 
be  classed  under  the  heads  of  either  the  morale  or  the  physique.  They 
partake  of  both.  Such,  for  instance,  are  the  habits  and  pursuits  of  a 
people.  In  this  country,  commerce  and  manufactures  preponderate  over 
agriculture  and  pasturage — and  therefore  sedentary,  predominate  over  ac- 
tive habits.  The  factory  and  the  counting-house  are  not  only  more  un- 
healthy, in  a physical  point  of  view,  than  the  hills  and  the  vales,  but 
they  are  much  more  detrimental  to  the  moral  constitution  of  man.  The 
labour  is  thrown  on  the  head  and  the  hand — and  that  in  bad  air — rather 
than  on  the  body  and  legs,  under  the  canopy  of  Heaven.  This  dif- 
ference contributes  largely  to  the  support  of  the  Proteian  malady— 
especially  when  aided  by  the  competition  of  trade,  the  animosity  of  poli- 
tics— and  the  rancour  of  religious  bigotry.  These  and  various  other  moral 
and  physical  agents  have  unfortunately  increased  since  the  termination 
of  a long  and  sanguinary  conflict  with  the  common  enemy,  during  which, 
internal  dissentions  were  swallowed  up  in  national  enthusiasm,  and  re- 


134 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


dundancy  of  population  was  kept  in  check  by  the  waste  of  war ! Peace, 
therefore,  with  all  its  blessings  and  comforts,  is  not  without  its  alloy. 
Our  gigantic  struggles  with  foreign  foes,  are  now  transmuted  into  fierce 
contentions  between  opposing  factions.  Every  evil  passion  is  enlisted 
in  this  domestic  strife.  The  forum,  the  bench,  the  hustings — nay,  even 
the  pulpit — pour  forth,  like  volcanos,  the  destructive  elements  of  discord, 
hatred,  and  animosity,  among  all  ranks  and  classes  of  society ! Under 
these  circumstances,  is  it  wonderful  that  we  should  have  new  maladies, 
the  products  of  new  causes  ? It  would  be  wonderful  if  we  had  them 
not ! 

I have  not  attempted  a description  of  the  Patho-Proteian  evil,  be- 
cause, as  was  stated  before,  it  is  not  an  entity  in  itself,  but  rather  a 
morbid  state  of  constitution,  which  mixes  itself  up  with  almost  every 
other  disease,  assuming  its  form — influencing  its  character — and  modi- 
fying its  treatment.  This  last  is  a purely  medical  subject — at  least  in 
detail — and  is  discussed  by  many  authors  as  well  as  myself  in  the  pro- 
per places.  But  I have  pointed  out  the  chief  causes  (moral  and  phy- 
sical) of  the  evil;  and  this  may  guide  the  individual  to  avoid  them.  The 
very  specification  of  the  causes  of  a malady  suggests  the  chief  remedies, 
or,  at  all  events,  the  best  means  of  avoiding  it. 

The  pith  of  nearly  all  that  has  been  written  on  hygiene,  or  the  pre- 
vention of  diseases — and  of  the  Proteian  disorder  among  the  rest,  might 
be  included  under  two  heads — almost  in  two  words — temperance  and 
exercise.  But  temperance  means  much  more  than  mere  moderation 
in  eating  and  drinking.  It  comprehends  moderation  in  all  our  pleasures 
and  enjoyments,  mental  and  corporeal — it  prescribes  restraint  on  our 
passions — limitation  of  our  desires — but,  above  all,  coercion  of  our  am- 
bition. 

Our  physical  wants,  like  the  trade-winds,  vary  not  materially,  in  di- 
rection or  force  ; not  so  the  passions.  They  are  the  tempests  of  life, 
which  too  often  set  at  defiance  the  sails  and  the  rudder  of  reason — driv- 
ing the  vessel  upon  shoals  or  quicksands — and  ultimately  wrecking  her 
altogether ! 

I am  not  trenching  on  the  province  of  the  divine,  in  these  remarks. 
I allude  only  to  the  effects  of  the  passions  on  health  and  happiness — 
and  not  on  the  concerns  of  the  immortal  soul.  The  heathen  philosopher 
(Plato)  may  have  carried  the  idea  too  far,  when  he  traced  all  diseases 
of  the  body  to  the  mind — but  assuredly,  as  tar  as  my  observation  goes 


PLEASURES  OF  THE  TABLE- 


■“  FEAST  OF  REASON.”  135 


— and  it  has  not  been  very  limited — a great  majority  of  our  corporeal 
disorders  spring  from,  or  are  aggravated  by,  mental  perturbations.  This 
point  cannot  be  too  strongly  urged,  or  too  often  repeated  by  the  physi- 
cian who  treats  of  the  prevention  of  diseases — and  especially  of  the  Pa- 
tho-Proteus  which  has  been  here  noticed.  But,  at  the  same  time,  it 
would  be  wrong  to  pass  over  the  various  miseries  resulting  from  the 
“ pleasures  of  the  table.”  The  intellectual  and  sensual  banquet  has 
too  many  charms  for  soul  and  body,  not  to  lead  into  almost  daily  excess, 
every  class  of  society,  from  the  savage  to  the  sage ! Even  here,  the 
immaterial  tenant  seduces  its  material  tenement  into  woful  sufferings. 
We  hear  a great  deal  indeed  of  “ the  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of 
soul — but,  for  my  own  part,  I have  too  often  observed  this  intellec- 
tual festival  to  take  place  where — 

“ Malignant  Chemia  scowls. 

And  mingles  poison  with  the  nectar’d  bowls.” 

It  is  more  curious  than  consolatory  to  scrutinize,  with  philosophic  eye, 
the  workings  of  turtle,  champagne^  and  conviviality,  on  those  finer  fa- 
culties with  which  metaphysicians  have  invested  the  immortal  principle 
of  man.  Without  diving  into  these  mysterious  and  perhaps  dangerous 
investigations,  I shall  only  remark  that  every  faculty  of  the  mind,  as 
well  as  every  function  of  the  body,  comes  under  the  influence  of  the 
abovementioned  material  agents,  and  in  a manner  that  is  well  worthy 
of  investigation,  in  regard  to  the  immediate  subjects  of  this  Essay — 

HEALTH  and  HAPPINESS. 

In  this  “ feast  of  reason,”  as  it  is  called,  which  is  generally  ac- 
companied by  food  of  a grosser  kind,  we  find  the  energies  of  the  mind 
called  forth — one  would  almost  say,  created — where  they  were  previ- 
ously dormant.  Sallies  of  wit  and  humour — sentiments  of  noble  phi- 
lanthropy, exalted  morality,  and  even  fervent  religion,  spring  forth  at 
the  festive  board,  which  lay  in  abeyance  till  that  hour  ! It  is  then  that 
friendship  opens  her  heart — the  miser  his  purse — bigotry  widens  the 
circle  of  its  charity — the  debtor  forgets  his  creditor — the  creditor  for- 
gives his  debtor — the  slave  breathes  the  air  of  freedom — penury  becomes 
possessed  of  temporary,  or  at  least  ideal  wealth — and,  stranger  still, 
riches  are  invested  with  momentary  happiness ! 

Are  these  remarkable  phenomena  of  the  mind  unconnected  with,  or 
independent  of,  any  corresponding  phenomena  in  our  physical  organi- 
zation ? Far  from  it ! Savoury  viands  and  generous  wines  stimulate 


136 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


the  material  organs,  accelerate  the  circulation,  and  call  forth  the  mere 
animal  spirits,  before  they  elicit  the  intellectual  corruscations.  And  as 
excitement  of  the  body  produces  excitement  of  the  mind,  so  passions  of 
the  mind  kindle  up  excitation  in  the  corporeal  fabric.  On  the  stage 
and  at  the  bar,  passion  is  more  frequently  feigned  than  felt ; but  in  the 
pulpit  and  the  senate,  religious  fervour  and  political  disputation  will  call 
forth  the  most  violent  agitation  of  the  body  through  the  medium  of  the 
mind.  Painting,  poetry,  music  and  oratory,  cannot  raise  emotions  in 
the  mind,  till  they  have  first  excited  certain  nerves  of  sense,  and,  through 
them,  the  very  brain  itself — the  organ  or  instrument  of  the  mind.  This 
is  the  grand  consideration,  as  far  as  health  and  happiness  are  concerned. 
It  establishes  this  important  axiom — little  understood  or  attended  to  by 
mankind  at  large — namely,  that  whenever  the  stream  of  life,  whether 
moral  or  physical,  mental  or  corporeal,  is  accelerated  in  its  course,  be- 
yond the  normal  or  medium  current,  it  must  experience  a corresponding 
retardation,  in  turn — and  these  inequalities  in  the  speed  of  the  stream 
must  inevitably  damage,  sooner  or  later,  the  banks  between  which  it  is 
enclosed.  There  is  not  an  axiom  in  physic  or  physiology  more  certain 
than  this — that  the  even  tenor  of  the  stream  prolongs  life,  preserves 
health,  and  maintains  happiness ; while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  strong 
excitements,  w’hether  of  body  or  mind,  afford  temporary  enjoyment,  at 
the  expense  of  permanent  sufferings.  It  is  true,  that  the  elasticity  of 
youth  and  health  renders  the  penalties  of  indulgence  short  at  the  begin- 
ning, and  amply  repaid  by  the  pleasure  of  the  feast,  whether  intellec- 
tual or  corporeal.  But  the  periods  of  enjoyment  gradually  shorten, 
while  those  of  pain  are  protracted,  till  at  length  a balance  is  struck,  that 
awakens  the  delinquent  to  a frightful  survey  of  the  real  condition  in 
which  he  is  placed!  It  is  then,  in  general,  too  late  to  retrace  our  steps! 

Now  the  besetting  sin  of  the  present  generation  is  not  that  of  intem- 
perance in  eating  and  drinking — but  rather  in  that  of  reading  and  think  • 
ing.  And  why  is  this  ? When  the  intellectual  powers  are  much  exerted, 
the  physical  powers,  and  more  especially  the  powers  of  the  digestive  or- 
gans, are  weakened.  Hence,  we  have  neither  the  relish  for  gluttony  and 
inebriation — nor  have  we  the  ability  to  bear  their  effects.  Add  to  this, 
that  the  exercise  of  the  rational  faculties  dissuades  from  intemperance, 
independently  of  its  withdrawing  the  power  of  indulging  in  it.  In  rude 
states  of  society,  where  the  higher  functions  of  the  mind  are  but  little 
employed,  the  sensual  gratifications  of  the  palate  and  stomach  constitute 


CAUSES  OF  MODERN  TEMPERANCE.  13/ 

the  principal  pleasures  of  life — and  the  organs  being  strong,  these  plea- 
sures are  exquisitely  enjoyed,  and  borne  with  comparative  facility.  The 
coal-heaver,  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  whose  brain  is  nearly  as  inert 
as  the  sable  load  under  which  his  muscles  crack,  will  drink  ten  or  twelve 
quarts  of  porter,  besides  gin,  in  one  day,  and  go  home  as  sober  as  a judge 
at  night.  But  let  the  judge  himself,  whose  active  brain  absorbs  all 
energy  from  his  muscles,  try  this  experiment ! 

Here,  then,  is  the  true  solution  of  the  problem — the  real  causes  why 
the  present  generation  are  more  temperate  than  their  ancestors — namely, 
disrelish  for,  and  inability  to  bear  intemperance,  as  compared  with  those 
of  the  olden  time.  But  the  effects  of  intemperance  have  not  diminished 
in  proportion.  On  the  contrary,  they  have  multiplied  prodigiously. 
What  was  ultra-abstemiousness  a hundred  years  ago,  would  now  be  des- 
tructive excess.  The  habits  and  manners  of  the  hardy  Highlander  in  the 
days  of  Waverly  and  the  wassail  bowl,  would  ill  suit  the  natives  of 
Glenco  and  Tobermorey  in  the  present  day.  Tea,  politics,  and  . steam, 
have  wonderfully  impaired  the  digestive  organs  of  the  Celt  and  Sasse- 
nach laird  since  the  days  of  Bradwardine  and  Tully-veolan,  though 
some  of  their  descendants  appear  to  have,  even  yet,  their  stomachs  lined 
with  copper,  and  proof  against  the  fiery  impressions  of  the  most  potent 
Glenlivet ! 

Thus,  then,  a nervous  temperament — a morbid  sensibility — per- 
vades the  whole  frame  of  society,  more  or  less — a supersensitiveness 
that  inflicts  pains  and  penalties  on  trifling  and  occasional  indiscretions, 
which  used  formerly  to  be  levied  only  upon  habitual  and  excessive  in- 
dulgence ! There  are  many  millions  in  this  country,  to  whom  food  is 
physic,  of  the  bitterest  kind — and  to  whom  physic  is  as  daily  indispen- 
sible  as  food ! To  the  luxurious  epicure  it  may  seem  incredible  that, 
within  the  boundaries  of  the  British  Isles,  there  are  millions,  among  the 
opulent  classes,  who  would  give  half  their  wealth  to  be  able  to  do  with- 
out food  altogether— who  would  gladly  give  up  the  pleasure  of  eating, 
for  an  immunity  from  the  misery  of  digesting . Incredible  as  this  may 
seem,  it  is  nevertheless,  strictly  true.* 


* The  sister  of  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Siddons  (Mrs.  Whitlock)  died  under  the  care 
of  the  Author,  from  starvation,  without  its  attendant  sufferings  of  hunger  and  thirst. 
An  aneurismal  enlargement  of  a vessel  in  the  brain,  pressed  upon  the  origins  of  two 
particular  nerves  the  eighth  and  ninth — those  which  give  power  to  speech,  swal- 
lowing, and  digestion.  The  consequence  was,  an  inability  to  speak,  to  swallow,  and 

T 


138 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


I wish  I could  state,  consistently  with  truth,  that  the  punishment  falls 
exclusively  on  the  intemperate — that  the  gourmand  is  the  only  victim,  in 
the  end,  of  indigestion,  and  all  its  indescribable  horrors.  But  I am  com- 
pelled to  aver  that  this  penalty  falls  far  more  frequently  on  the  innocent 
than  on  the  guilty — on  those  who  labour  with  their  heads,  for  the  good 
of  society,  rather  than  on  those  who  consume  the  fruits  of  the  earth  in 
luxury  and  idleness — on  the  unfortunate  far  more  often  than  on  the  of- 
fender ! 

And  now  we  have  approached  the  den  of  the  dragon — the  favourite 
haunt  of  the  Proteian  fiend  ; for,  whatever  may  have  been  his  origin, 
whether  moral  or  physical,  intellectual  or  corporeal — the  stomach  and 
digestive  organs  are  selected  as  his  head-quarters.  There  he  sits,  con- 
cealed, like  the  spider,  weaving  his  web  of  mischief,  forming  his  lines  of 
communication,  and  establishing  his  chains  of  painful  sympathy  between 
every  tissue  and  structure  of  the  human  fabric  ! If  other  maladies  do  not 
assail  the  constitution,  the  Proteian  enemy  is  ever  ready  to  assume  their 
forms,  and  harass  his  victim  with  incessant  alarms  ; — if  they  do,  he  sel- 
dom fails  to  join  as  a powerful  auxiliary,  and  add  poignancy  to  every 
sting  of  the  principal  assailant ! The  discrimination  between  the  real 
and  the  imitating  malady  is,  in  fact,  the  most  difficult  task  of  the  phy- 
sician. So  accurately  does  the  sympathetic  affection  enact  the  part  of 
the  idiopathic,  that  the  most  experienced — the  most  talented  practitioner 
is  very  often  deceived  !f 

The  Patho-Proteus  will  so  closely  imitate  functional  disorders,  and 
even  organic  diseases  of  the  heart,  the  brain,  the  lungs,  and  every  other 


to  digest.  Fortunately  the  paralysis  of  one  of  these  nerves  (the  eighth)  prevented 
the  sense  of  hunger — and  though  this  unfortunate  lady  lived  five  weeks  after  the 
failure  of  swallowing  was  complete,  she  suffered  not  from  either  hunger  or  thirst ! 
During  all  this  time,  the  faculties  of  the  mind,  and  the  other  functions  of  the  body 
were  unaffected.  She  was  76  years  of  age. 

f Hysteria  is  a form  which  the  Patho-Proteus  is  very  prone  to  assume  in 
females  of  modern  times ; and,  under  this  guise,  will  simulate  almost  every  disease, 
whether  of  internal  or  external  parts.  The  celebrated  Dupuytren,  of  Paris,  was  one 
day  walking  through  the  wards  of  a London  hospital.  His  attention  was  attracted 
to  the  case  of  a young  and  pallid  female,  who  had  white-swelling  of  the  knee,  to 
which  the  nurse  was  applying  leeches.  He  examined  this  patient,  and  pronounced 
that  the  white-swelling  was  hysteria,  and  that  valerian  and  steel  would  be  more 
beneficial  than  leeches  and  blisters.  His  diagnosis  was  fully  verified  by  the  event ! 
This  remarkable  species  of  simulation  is  well  known  to  experienced  practitioners. 
Sir  B.  Brodie  and  others  have  distinctly  described  it  in  their  writings  and  lectures. 


SYMPATHETIC  EFFECTS  OF  THE  PATHO-PROTEUS.  139 

internal  viscus  in  the  body,  that  the  young  practitioner  is  often  deceived, 
and  the  old  puzzled. 

With  many  of  the  agents  which  have  imposed  this  nervous  tempera- 
ment, this  supersensitive  character,  on  our  constitutions,  in  this  age  of 
civilization  and  refinement,  we  are  acquainted — and  they  have  been 
already  mentioned ; but  with  the  manner  in  which  they  have  effected 
this  change — with  their  mode  of  operating — we  know  as  little  as  we  do 
of  the  modus  operandi  of  gravity  or  magnetism.  We  recognize,  too 
painfully,  many  of  their  effects — perhaps  some  of  their  laws.  Thus, 
when  this  nervous  temperament  is  established,  we  find  that  food  and 
drink,  which  ought  to  produce  no  sensation,  or,  if  any,  a pleasurable 
one,  cause  a sense  of  discomfort,  or  even  of  actual  pain  in  the  stomach. 
This  fact  at  once  proves,  not  only  that  the  sensibility  of  the  nerves  of 
the  stomach  is  exalted,  but  that  it  is  morbidly  exalted.  That  the  diges- 
tive powers  of  the  stomach  are  also  weakened,  is  demonstrated  by  two 
phenomena — first,  that  the  digestive  process  is  protracted  as  well  as 
painful — and  secondly,  that  it  is  imperfect  also,  as  shewn  by  the  food 
running  into  the  acetous  fermentation,  which  augments — perhaps  often 
is  the  cause  of,  the  uneasy  or  painful  sensations  which  we  experience. 
But  if  the  distress  occasioned  by  painful  and  protracted  digestion  were 
the  only  evil — and  it  is  no  trifling  one — the  sufferer  would  have  great 
cause  to  be  thankful.  The  nerves  of  the  digestive  organs  sympathise 
so  freely  and  so  universally  with  the  nerves  of  all  other  organs  and  parts 
of  the  body,  that  not  a single  structure  or  function  of  the  human  fabric 
escapes,  at  one  time  or  other,  from  participation  in  the  misery  of  the 
part  first  affected.  And  even  this  is  not  all.  Corporeal  pain  is  much 
more  easily  borne  than  mental  anguish.  The  disorders  of  the  body,  and 
especially  those  of  the  digestive  organs,  very  soon  involve  the  functions 
of  the  mind — and  then  we  have  a train  of  phenomena  still  more  inscrut- 
able and  agonizing ! The  irritation  resulting  from  food  undigested  in 
the  stomach,  or  from  the  decompositions  into  which  that  food  runs,  in- 
duces the  most  surprizing  and  afflictive  symptoms  to  which  humanity  is 
subject.  The  following  extract  from  a work  which  I published  more 
than  ten  years  ago,  may  be  introduced  here,  in  illustration  of  what  I am 
stating. 

“ In  some  cases,  where  this  poisonous  secretion  lurks  long  in  the  upper 
bowels,  the  nerves  of  which  are  so  numerous  and  the  sympathies  so  ex- 
tensive, there  is  induced  a state  of  mental  despondency  and  perturbation 


140 


ECONOMY  OK  HEALTH, 


which  it  is  impossible  to  describe*  and  which  no  one  can  form  a just  idea 
of,  but  he  who  has  felt  it  in  person.  The  term  * blue  devils’  is  not  half 
expressive  enough  of  this  state  ; and,  if  my  excellent  friend.  Dr.  Marshall 
Hall,  meant  to  describe  it  under  the  head  ‘ mimosis  inquieta,’  he  never 
experienced  it  in  propria  persona ! This  poison  acts  in  different  ways  on 
different  individuals.  In  some,  whose  nervous  systems  are  not  very  sus- 
ceptible, it  produces  a violent  fit  of  what  is  called  bilious  head-ache,  with 
excruciating  pains  and  spasms  in  the  stomach  and  bowels,  generally  with 
vomiting  or  purging,  which  is  often  succeeded  by  a yellow  suffusion  in 
the  eyes,  or  even  on  the  skin.  Severe  as  this  paroxysm  is,  the  patient 
may  thank  his  stars  that  the  poison  vented  its  fury  on  the  body  instead 
of  the  mind.  Where  the  intellectual  faculties  have  been  much  harassed, 
and  the  nervous  system  weakened  and  rendered  irritable,  the  morbid 
secretion  acts  in  that  direction,  and  little  or  no  inconvenience  may  be 
felt  in  the  real  seat  of  the  offending  matter.  The  mind  becomes  sud- 
denly overcast,  as  it  were,  with  a cloud — some  dreadful  imaginary  or 
even  unknown  evil  seems  impending  ; or  some  real  evil,  of  trifling  im- 
portance in  itself,  is  quickly  magnified  into  a terrific  form,  attended,  ap- 
parently, with  a train  of  disastrous  consequences,  from  which  the  mental 
eye  turns  in  dismay.  The  sufferer  cannot  keep  in  one  position,  but 
paces  the  room  in.  agitation,  giving  vent  to  his  fears  in  doleful  soliloquies, 
or  pouring  forth  his  apprehensions  in  the  ears  of  his  friends.  If  he  is 
from  home,  when  this  fit  comes  on,  he  hastens  back — but  soon  sets  out 
again,  in  the  vain  hope  of  running  from  his  own  wretched  feelings.  If 
he  happen  to  labour  under  any  chronic  complaint  at  the  time,  it  is  im- 
mediately converted  (in  his  imagination)  into  an  incurable  disease ; and 
the  distresses  of  a ruined  and  orphaned  family  rush  upon  his  mind  and 
heighten  his  agonies.  He  feels  his  pulse,  and  finds  it  intermitting  or 
irregular — disease  of  the  heart  is  threatened,  and  the  doctor  is  sum- 
moned. If  he  ventures  to  go  to  bed — and  falls  into  a slumber,  he  awakes 
in  the  midst  of  a frightful  dream,  and  dares  not  again  lay  his  head  on 
the  pillow.  This  state  of  misery  may  continue  for  24,  36,  or  48  hours  ; 
when  a discharge  of  viscid,  acrid  bile,  of  horrible  fetor,  dissolves  at 
once  the  spell  by  which  the  strongest  mind  may  be  bowed  down  to  the 
earth,  for  a time,  through  the  agency  of  a poisonous  secretion  on  the 
intestinal  nerves ! Or  it  may  go  off  without  any  evacuation  of  offend- 
ing matter,  leaving  us  in  the  dark  as  to  the  cause  of  such  a train  of 
distressing  phenomena.  I believe  such  a train  of  symptoms  seldom  ob- 


SYMPATHIES  BETWEEN  BODY  AND  MIND.  141 

tains,  except  where  there  has  been  a predisposition  to  morbid  sensibility, 
occasioned  by  mental  anxiety,  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  disappointments 
in  business,  failure  of  speculations,  domestic  afflictions,  too  great  labour 
of  the  intellect,  or  some  of  those  thousand  moral  ills,  which  render 
both  mind  and  body  so  susceptible  of  disorder.”* 

This,  however,  is  a paroxysm  or  storm,  which  soon  blows  over,  and 
we  have  a longer  or  shorter  interval  of  quietude.  A much  -worse  con- 
dition is  too  often  the  fate  of  the  victim  of  “ morbid  sensibility.” 
The  nerves  of  the  digestive  organs  sympathise  so  extensively  and  inti- 
mately with  those  of  all  other  organs  and  parts  of  the  body,  that  the 
seat  of  suffering  is  generally  placed  far  remote  from  the  seat  of  its 
cause.  The  head,  the  heart,  and  other  distant  parts,  are  far  more  fre- 
quently referred  to  by  the  individual,  than  the  stomach  or  bowels,  where 
the  evil  originates ; and  to  these  localities  remedies  are,  of  course,  in- 
effectually directed.  Here  lies  the  difficulty  of  discrimination  ! And  if 
the  longest  experience  and  most  patient  investigation  are  frequently 
deceived,  what  must  be  the  case  in  the  routine  practice  of  the  fashionable 
physician,  who  flies,  on  burning  wheels,  from  patient  to  patient,  pre- 
scribing for  symptoms  ! 

But  even  these  corporeal  sufferings,  bad  as  they  are,  constitute  but  a 
small  share  in  the  sum  total  of  afflictions  resulting  from  this  nervous 
temperament — this  morbid  sensibility  of  the  human  constitution,  in- 
duced by  modern  civilization  and  refinement ! The  Patho-Proteian  fiend 
too  often  flies  at  nobler  quarry  than  the  material  organs.  He  can 
paralyze  the  energies  of  the  mind  as  readily  as  the  torpedo  benumbs  the 
feelings  of  the  body.  Would  that  this  were  all ! But  the  sting  of  the 
fiend  carries  with  it  poison  as  well  as  paralysis ! In  this  state  of  sub- 
lunary existence,  the  faculties  of  the  soul  are  so  entwined  with  the 
functions  of  its  material  tenement,  that  one  class  cannot  be  acted  on, 
without  the  other  being  affected.  This  is  a general  rule.  But  the 
nervous  temperament,  the  morbid  sensibility,  to  'which  I now  allude,  ex- 
ercises a peculiar,  a predominant  influence  over  our  moral  sentiments. 

It  is  well  known,  and  universally  acknowledged,  that  irritation  in  the 
stomach  and  bowels  will  frequently  induce  temporary  insanity — and 
especially  those  violent  paroxysms  that  lead  to  suicide.  If  it  be  admitted 
(it  cannot  indeed  be  denied)  that  the  malady  in  question  is  capable  of 


Essay  on  Indigestion,  9th  Edition. 


J42 


ECONOMY  OK  HEALTH. 


subverting  reason  entirely,  for  a time,  how  can  we  resist  the  inference 
that,  in  milder  grades,  it  perverts  the  feelings,  the  affections,  the  passions 
— in  one  word,  the  temper  of  the  individual  ? Temper  is  perfectly  well 
understood  by  every  one — yet  it  cannot  be  defined  by  the  most  subtle 
metaphysician.  It  is  said  to  be  good — bad — gay — sulky — irritable — 
phlegmatic — irascible — peevish — placid — quarrelsome — imperturbable, 
&c.  involving  all  kinds  of  contrasts,  and  consequently  rendering  all  de- 
finitions nugatory.  Johnson  gives  seven  different  definitions  of  temper. 
One  of  them  (the  first)  will  be  sufficient  here;  viz.  “ due  mixture  of 
contrary  qualities.” 

Metaphysicians  have  not  always  been  the  best  versed  in  the  knowledge 
of  human  nature.  How  could  they,  indeed,  when  we  see  that  they 
studied  but  half  the  subject — the  mind  and  not  the  body  ? The  con- 
sequence has  been,  that  many  qualities,  dispositions,  and  propensities 
have  been  attributed  to  the  mind,  which  belong  to  the  body  and  only 
affect  the  mind  secondarily.  Thus  temper,  for  example,  is,  by  most  peo- 
ple, looked  upon  as  a quality  of  mind,  whereas  it  is  solely  one  of  the 
corporeal  constitution.  It  is,  in  fact,  temperament,  which  must  be 
material.  If  this  were  not  true,  how  is  it  that  a man’s  temper  is  often 
entirely  changed  by  a severe  illness  ? Does  the  mind  or  soul  change 
thus  ? Not  at  all.  The  constitution — the  health  of  the  body  alters — 
and  the  temper  with  it.  This  view  of  the  subject  offers  no  apology  for 
non-restraint  of  our  temper,  passions,  and  propensities,  by  means  of  our 
reason.  On  the  contrary,  it  holds  out  the  strongest  incentives  to  em- 
ploy the  moral  power  in  coercing  the  physical  evil.  If  tempers  and 
passions  belonged  exclusively  to  the  mind,  the  mind  could  not  control 
them,  no  more  than  the  body  itself  could  control  its  own  temperament. 
As  temper  and  passions  then  are  attributes  of  the  grosser  part  of  our 
nature,  it  is  for  the  immaterial  and  immortal  agent  to  quell,  or  at  least 
to  restrain  them. 

But  let  it  be  observed  that  the  greatest  exertions  of  the  mind  will  not 
be  always  able  to  control  completely  the  passions  or  temper  of  the  body, 
without  material  assistance.  All  the  reasoning  in  the  world  will  not  be 
adequate  to  counteract  the  effects  of  disordered  digestion  on  the  mental 
faculties,  without  laying  the  axe  to  the  root  of  the  tree — without  striking 
at  the  corporeal  origin  of  the  evil. — Thus  a man  is  affected  with  depres- 
sion of  spirits,  hypochondriasis — or  even  delusion  on  a particular  subject 
— monomania.  He  is  told  to  exert  his  reason,  and  thus  to  dissipate  his 


HYGIENE EXERCISE. 


143 


vapours.  His  reason  may  enable  him  to  bear  his  sufferings  with  greater 
patience,  but  it  will  not  remove  the  malady.  And  here  I would  ask,  if 
insanity  itself  be  purely  “ mental  derangement,”  why  it  is  that  the 
metaphysician,  whose  province  it  is  to  treat  of  mind,  is  not  called  in,  to 
decide  the  question  of  sanity  or  insanity  of  mind,  and  also  to  guide  the 
treatment  ? How  is  it  that  the  physician,  whose  business  is  with  the 
body,  is  selected  to  judge  of  the  unsoundness  of  the  mind,  and  to  bring 
it  back  from  its  aberrations  ? It  is  because  theory  and  practice  do  not 
quadrate  on  this  point.  The  truth  is,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  pure 
mental  derangement.  The  disease  is  in  the  body — its  symptoms  appear 
in  disordered  manifestations  of  the  mind.  And  it  is  through  the  medium 
of  the  corporeal  organs  and  functions  that  we  can  hope  to  remedy  it. 
We  hear  a great  deal,  indeed,  of  the  moral  treatment  of  the  insane. 
This  moral  management  is  proper ; but  when  accurately  analyzed,  it  will 
be  found  that  its  agency  is  directly  or  ultimately  felt  by  the  corporeal 
functions,  and  thus  its  chief  remedial  influence  is  exerted.  Take,  for 
example  the  mild  and  soothing  system  of  managing  the  insane,  during  a 
paroxysm,  as  contrasted  with  the  harsh  and  coercive  means  which  were 
formerly  employed.  What  are  the  physiological  effects  ? The  nervous 
excitement  is  lulled — the  vascular  action  is  diminished — and  the  maniacal 
orgasm  is,  of  course,  abridged.  In  what  does  this  treatment  differ  from 
that  which  is  pursued  in  other  diseases  ? In  fever,  gout,  or  inflammation 
of  the  heart,  if  we  irritate  the  morale  of  the  patient,  will  we  not  do 
great  mischief? — and  will  we  not  mitigate  these  diseases  by  soothing 
and  quietude  ? — In  short,  the  whole  of  the  moral  treatment,  in  any  and 
every  case,  resolves  itself,  at  last,  into  corporeal  results  or  effects,  through 
which  the  cure  or  alleviation  is  consummated.* 

This  reasoning  will  hold  good  throughout  the  whole  chain  of  moral 
infirmities,  from  insanity,  at  the  head  of  the  scale,  down  to  the  most 
trifling  irritability  of  temper.  Every  link  in  that  vast  chain  is  depen- 


* Insanity,  like  gout  and  some  other  disorders,  is  acknowledged  to  be  hereditary. 
Is  the  mind  or  soul  hereditary  ? If  it  be  derived  from  our  parents,  immortality  is 
a dream ! No,  no.  The  soul’s  tenement  only  is  transmitted  from  generation  to 
generation,  and  with  it  many  of  its  maladies.  The  immortal  spark  is  derived  from 
Heaven,  the  same  in  every  subsequent  as  in  the  first  creation.  It  would  appear  to 
me  a sound,  or,  at  all  events,  a rational  doctrine,  to  consider  evil  dispositions  as 
attached  to  the  fallen  or  mortal  part  of  man, — the  soul  or  immortal  part,  being 
responsible  in  another  state  of  existence,  for  the  duty  of  controlling  and  preventing 
the  deeds  of  the  flesh  in  this  world. 


144 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


dent  on  some  corporeal  disposition  or  disorder,  and  is  only  to  be  broken 
by  a combination  of  moral  and  physical  remedies. — Reason,  morality, 
and,  above  all,  religion,  will  curb,  though  seldom  cure,  the  minor  grades 
of  the  evil ; but  the  highest  link  in  the  chain,  in  which  the  reasoning 
powers  themselves  are  subverted,  defies  moral  remedies,  and  requires  the 
aid  of  physical  agents. 

HYGIENE;  OR  PREVENTION. 

Enough — perhaps  more  than  enough,  has  been  said  on  the  nature 
and  causes  of  the  Proteiform  Malady — the  offspring  and  curse  of  ad- 
vanced civilization  and  refinement — the  punishment  which  knowledge 
and  improvement  inflict  on  a redundant  population ! But  the  reflec- 
tions and  observations  which  I have  made  will  not  be  valueless  to  the 
reader,  if  duly  considered.  In  portraying  the  causes  of  the  malady,  I 
have,  in  fact,  indicated  the  chief  preventives,  or  even  the  correctives — 
without  naming  them — and  that  in  a far  more  effectual  manner  than  by 
detailing  a long  catalogue  of  specific  remedies.  This  latter  course,  in- 
deed, would  be  inappropriate  in  a work  of  this  kind,  designed  for  general 
perusal.  I have  already  remarked  that  the  essence  of  hygiene,  or  pre- 
vention of  disease,  consists  in  temperance  and  exercise.  Of  the  first 
I have  spoken  enough — and  took  care  to  extend  the  meaning  of  intem- 
perance to  more  indulgences  than  those  of  the  table.  Every  one  who 
has  honoured  these  pages  with  perusal,  must  have  appreciated  the  va- 
lue which  I attach  to  corporeal  exercises  ; but  the  subject  is  one  of 
such  vital  importance,  in  regard  to  health  and  happiness,  that  a short, 
but  special  disquisition  on  it,  will  not,  perhaps,  be  deemed  superfluous 
from  the  pen  of  one  who  has  studied  it  with  unusual  care,  and  noted  its 
influence  on  an  extended  theatre  of  observation. 

In  the  first  phases  of  human  life,  exercise  of  the  body  is  positive  plea- 
sure, and  the  want  of  it  is  little  less  than  actual  pain.  The  muscles  of 
early  youth  are  so  imbued  with  an  exuberance  of  vitality,  that  quietude 
is  irksome,  and  this  exuberance  is  joyfully,  as  well  as  profitably  expen- 
ded in  active  exertion.  In  the  advanced  stages  of  existence,  on  the 
contrary,  the  muscles  lose  their  aptitude  for  motion — the  sinews  their 
elasticity — and  then  rest  is  little  short  of  sensible  pleasure.  In  the  mid- 
dle stages  of  man’s  journey  on  earth,  when  exercise  produces  neither 
pain  nor  pleasure,  it  is,  nevertheless,  necessary  to  health — but  it  is  at 


HYGIENE EXERCISE. 


145 


this  period  that  it  is  too  much  neglected.  Various  causes  are  assigned 
for  this  neglect — and  various  excuses  (some  of  them  valid,  others  not) 
are  made  by  different  individuals  or  classes.  Our  sedentary  habits  and 
mental  pursuits  disincline,  and,  in  some  measure,  disqualify  us  for  stre- 
nuous bodily  exertion — but  this  is  a strong  argument  for  early  and  re- 
gular resistance  to  the  growing  propensity. 

“ Crescit  indulgens  sibi  dims  hydrops.” 

And  so  does  the  indulgence  of  indolence  increase  the  disposition  to  in- 
action. Many  people,  with  reason,  aver  that  they  have  no  time  for 
exercise.  The  Coan  sage  begins  his  aphorisms  with  this  remarkable 
expression  : “ Ars  longa,  vita  brevis” — which  virtually  means,  “ our 
labours  are  many,  but  our  days  are  few.”  The  aphorism  is  correct ; 
but  the  inference  drawn  from  it  is  often  wrong.  It  is  not  by  dedicating 
all  our  hours  to  labour,  repose,  and  sleep,  that  we  shall  effect  most 
achievements,  whether  intellectual  or  mechanical — consistent,  at  least, 
with  health.  Parsimony  is  not  always  economy  ; and  he  who  ab- 
stracts a certain  portion  of  time  from  his  usual  mental  or  corporeal 
avocations,  and  dedicates  it  to  simple  exercise  of  the  body  in  the  open 
air,  will  reach  the  goal  of  his  ambition  sooner — or,  at  all  events,  more 
safely,  than  he  who  considers  all  time  lost,  which  is  not  spent  in  the 
specific  avocation  or  pursuit  in  which  he  is  engaged.  I am  well  aware 
that  thousands — nay  millions,  are  so  circumstanced,  that  their  daily 
wants  demand  the  daily  waste  of  their  health  and  strength  ! This  is 
particularly  the  case  with  females  ; and  affords  an  additional  reason  for 
our  sympathy  and  kindness  to  the  more  amiable,  as  well  as  the  most 
industrious  (I  had  almost  said  oppressed ) half  of  the  human  race ! 

Any  exercise,  however  mechanical  or  partial,  as  in  the  various  kinds 
of  manufactures  or  handicrafts,  is  better  than  no  exercise  at  all  of  the 
body.  Throughout  the  extensive  Bureaucracy  of  this  country,  in- 
cluding many  of  the  learned  and  scientific  professions,  labour  is  thrown 
almost  exclusively  on  the  head — and  it  is  not  of  the  most  cheerful  kind. 
The  benefits  of  corporeal  exercise,  and  the  injuries  resulting  from  its 
neglect,  are  by  no  means  generally  understood.  We  are  told,  indeed, 
that  exercise  strengthens  the  muscles,  and  the  whole  body ; — and,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  indolence  debilitates.  This  is  a very  imperfect  view 
of  the  subject.  If  strength  was  the  only  salutary  result  of  exercise — 
and  if  debility  was  the  only  consequence  of  its  desuetude,  little  would 

u 


146 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


be  gained  by  the  one,  or  lost  by  the  other,  comparatively  speaking.  But 
there  are  other  consequences  of  a far  more  important  nature.  The  brain 
and  the  nervous  system  furnish  a certain  quantum  of  excitability  to  the 
muscles,  and  to  all  the  various  organs  and  structures  of  the  body  ; — 
and  this  excitability  ought  to  be  expended  in  the  exercise  and  operations 
of  these  various  parts — if  health  is  to  be  insured.  But  if,  on  the  one 
hand,  this  sensorial  power  or  excitability  be  expended  on  mental  exer- 
tions, the  other,  or  corporeal  organs,  must  necessarily  be  deprived  of 
their  stimulus,  and  their  functions  languish,  as  a matter  of  course. 
Hence  the  innumerable  disorders  of  those  who  work  the  brain  more 
than  the  body  ! The  remedy  cannot  be  found,  in  this  class,  by  forcing 
the  body  to  exercise,  after  the  brain  and  nervous  system  are  exhausted. 
Bodily  exercise,  under  such  circumstances,  will  only  do  injury.  They 
must  curtail  the  exertions  of  the  mind  and  increase  the  exercise  of  the 
body. 

But  there  is  a large  class  of  society,  where  neither  the  mind  nor  the 
body  is  exercised.  In  the  higher  grades,  there  is  a portion  who,  of 
course,  have  no  avocation  or  pursuit,  mental  or  corporeal,  and  where 
indolence  and  ennui  bear  sway.  In  the  lower  ranges,  a few  muscles, 
indeed,  as  those  of  the  hands  and  fingers,  are  daily  exercised ; but  the 
mind  is  either  little  concerned  in  these  minute  manipulations,  or  it  is 
exercised  in  thoughts  by  no  means  conducive  to  moral  or  bodily  health. 
In  these  two  classes — and  they  comprehend  an  immense  number  of  the 
existing  human  race,  in  the  civilized  world — the  excitability  of  the  brain 
and  nervous  system  accumulates,  for  want  of  expenditure,  and  soon 
passes  into  irritability — the  bane  and  misery  of  millions  ! ! — An  il- 
lustration of  this  accumulation,  as  far  as  the  body  is  concerned,  must  be 
familiar  to  every  one  who  has  travelled  for  twenty-four  hours  in  a stage- 
coach, and  experienced  those  most  disagreeable  sensations  known  by 
the  term  “ fidgets,”  and  arising  from  the  confinement  and  inactivity  of 
the  limbs,  without  the  power  or  space  for  stretching  them.  The  ana- 
logy extends  to  our  mental,  as  well  as  to  our  physical  organization. 
Muscular  exercise,  wdiether  in  high  or  low  life,  carries  off  and  prevents 
an  accumulation  of  excitability,  and  consequently  of  irritability,  and 
thus  conduces,  in  a very  marked  manner,  to  health  of  body  and  tran- 
quillity of  mind.  Want  of  exercise,  especially  when  combined  with 
mental  exertion,  disturbs  the  equilibrium  of  the  circulation,  and  causes 
the  blood  to  accumulate  more  in  some  organs  than  in  others.  Thus 


BEN  K FIT  OF  EXERC  ISE. 


14/ 


the  brain  is  the  great  sufferer  ; hence  the  headaches,  confusion,  loss  of 
memory,  giddiness,  and  other  affections,  so  common  among  sedentary 
people.  The  liver,  from  its  peculiarly  languid  circulation,  is  the  next 
most  common  sufferer.  The  vital  current  stagnates  in  the  venous  sys- 
tem of  the  biliary  apparatus,  and  inert  or  bad  bile  is  the  consequence. 
This  deranges  the  whole  of  the  digestive  organs,  and  through  them  al- 
most every  function  of  mind  and  body.  Nothing  can  prove  a complete 
substitute  for  exercise,  whether  active  or  passive,  in  the  prevention  of 
these  numerous  evils.  Exercise  equalizes  the  circulation,  as  well  as  the 
excitability,  and  thus  checks  the  disposition  to  congestion  and  irritability. 

It  is  well  known  that  one  impression,  whether  mental  or  corporeal, 
will  often  supersede  another,  or  at  least  weaken  it.  This  principle  is 
often  available  in  the  treatment  of  that  class  of  human  infirmities  which 
we  are  now  considering. 

If  the  individual's  circumstances  will  permit  him  to  engage  in  any 
pursuit  that  may  occupy  his  attention  and  exercise  his  body,  it  will 
prove  one  of  the  most  powerful  means  of  counteracting  the  original  cause 
of  many  of  his  sufferings.  Unfortunately  there  are  but  very  few,  whose 
circumstances  will  permit  them  to  embark  in  any  new  pursuit.  Yet  it 
is  in  the  power  of  a great  many  to  engage  in  a systematic  exercise  of 
the  body,  in  some  mode  or  other,  if  they  will  only  summon  resolution  to 
make  the  experiment.  The  languor  and  listlessness  attendant  on  the 
disorder  are  great  obstacles  to  this  plan  ; but  they  should  be  urged  to  it 
by  all  the  eloquence  of  their  medical  attendants.  Some  caution,  how- 
ever, is  necessary  here.  The  debility  and  exhaustion  which  supervene 
on  the  most  trifling  exertion  deter  most  people  from  persevering,  and 
therefore,  the  corporeal  exercise  must  be  commenced  on  the  lowest  pos- 
sible scale,  and  very  gradually  increased.  Thus,  a person  whose  seden- 
tary occupations  confine  him  to  the  house,  might  begin  by  going  once  to 
the  top  of  the  stairs  the  first  day,  twice  the  second  day,  and  so  on,  till 
he  could  go  up  and  down  the  same  path  many  times  each  day.  It  is 
wonderful  what  may  be  accomplished  in  this  way  by  perseverance.  I 
have  known  people,  who  could  not  go  up  a flight  of  steps  without  pal- 
pitation and  breathlessness,  acquire,  in  one  month,  the  power  of  running 
up  to  the  top  of  the  house,  with  scarcely  any  acceleration  of  the  pulse 
or  respiration.  If  this  kind  of  ascending  and  descending  exertion,  how- 
ever, is  feared,  the  individual  may  adopt  the  plan  recommended  by 
Mr.  Abernethy,  of  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  room  with  the  windows 


148 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


open.  If  the  exercise  can  be  taken  in  the  open  air,  it  will  be  still  better, 
and  the  quantum  may  be  gradually  increased  by  twenty  or  thirty  steps 
daily.  This  task,  which  should  be  represented  as  an  infallible  remedy 
in  the  end,  must  be  performed  at  first  when  the  stomach  is  nearly  empty ; 
and  when  an  increase  of  muscular  power  is  acquired,  it  maybe  performed 
at  any  time — even  within  two  hours  after  dinner.  Those  who  can  en- 
gage in  any  of  the  lighter  gymnastic  exercises,  should  be  urged  to  it  by 
every  kind  of  persuasion,  especially  in  the  cool  seasons  of  the  year. 
These  are  means  within  the  reach  of  almost  all — and  the  advantages  to 
be  derived  from  such  a system  are  incalculable.  By  this  systematic  ex- 
ertion of  the  body,  with  spare  diet,  most  cases  of  dyspepsia  might  be 
completely  cured  among  the  middling  and  lower  classes  of  society. 

But  there  is  a large  class  -whose  morale  has  been  too  far  spoiled— 
whose  education  has  been  too  refined — and  whose  senses  have  been  too 
much  pampered,  to  benefit  by  such  simple  means.  There  must  be  some 
incentive  to  corporeal  exertion  stronger  than  the  foregoing  plan  presents  ; 
and  moral  excitement  must  be  combined  with  physical  agency,  if  we 
hope  to  carry  our  projects  into  beneficial  operation.  That  the  long 
catalogue  of  dyspeptic  and  hypochondriacal  complaints  is  much  more 
frequently  the  inheritance  of  the  affluent  than  the  indigent,  there  can 
be  no  doubt ; and  yet  the  former  class  have  a remedy  in  their  power 
which  is  infinitely  more  efficacious  than  all  the  other  moral  and  physical 
means  put  together,  but  which  they  rarely  take  advantage  of — or,  when 
they  do  embrace  it,  they  seldom  go  the  proper  way  to  work.  This  is 
travelling  in  the  open  air. 

In  the  course  of  a wandering  life  (over  almost  every  part  of  the  globe), 
I have  had  many  opportunities  of  studying  and  ascertaining  the  effects 
of  travelling  on  different  diseases  ; but,  on  four  different  occasions  within 
the  last  fourteen  years,  I made  one  of  parties,  whose  sole  object  was  the 
trial  of  a plan  which  I had  devised  for  recruiting  health.  It  may  not  be 
wholly  uninteresting  to  those  whom  it  may  concern,  if  I offer  a concise 
sketch  of  the  plans  which  were  pursued  in  these  instances. 

FIRST  TOUR  OF  HEALTH,  IN  1823. 

[ France , Switzcrlatid,  Germany,  and  Belgium.'] 

Six  individuals,  three  in  health  (domestics)  and  three  valetudinarians 
(one  a lady),  travelled,  in  the  months  of  August,  September,  and  October, 


TOUKS  OF  IIKALTH. 


149 


1823,  about  2.500  miles,  through  France,  Switzerland,  Germany,  and 
Belgium,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  health,  and  such  amusement  as  was 
considered  most  contributive  to  the  attainment  of  that  object. 

The  experiment  was  tried,  whether  a constant  change  of  scene  and 
air,  combined  with  almost  uninterrupted  exercise,  active  and  passive, 
during  the  day — principally  in  the  open  air — might  not  ensure  a greater 
stock  of  health,  than  slow  journeys  and  long  sojourns  on  the  road.  The 
result  will  be  seen  presently.  But,  in  order  to  give  the  reader  some 
idea  of  what  may  be  done  in  a three  months’  tour  of  this  kind,  I shall 
enumerate  the  daily  journeys,  omitting  the  excursions  from  and  around 
those  places  at  which  we  halted  for  the  night,  or  for  a few  days.  Our 
longest  sojourn  was  that  of  a week,  and  that  only  thrice — at  Paris, 
Geneva,  and  Brussels.  In  a majority  of  places,  we  only  stopped  a night 
and  part  of  a day,  or  one  or  two  days,  according  to  local  interest.  But 
I may  remark  that,  as  far  as  I was  concerned,  more  exercise  was  taken 
during  the  days  of  sojourn  at  each  place,  than  during  the  days  occupied 
in  travelling  from  one  point  to  another.  The  consequence  was,  that  a 
quarter  of  a year  was  spent  in  one  uninterrupted  system  of  exercise, 
change  of  air,  and  change  of  scene,  together  with  the  mental  excitement 
and  amusement  produced  by  the  perpetual  presentation  of  new  objects 
— many  of  them  the  most  interesting  on  the  face  of  this  globe. 

The  following  were  the  regular  journeys,  and  the  points  of  nightly 
repose  : — 1,  Sittingbourn — 2,  Dover — 3,  Calais — 4,  Boulogne — 5,  Abbe- 
ville— 6,  Rouen — 7,  Along  the  banks  of  the  Seine  to  Mantes — 8,  Paris, 
with  excursions  and  perambulations — 9,  Fontainbleau — 10,  Auxerre — 1 1 , 
Vitteaux — 12,  Dijon,  with  excursions — 13,  Champagnole,  in  the  Jura 
Mountains — 14,  Geneva,  with  various  excursions — 15,  Salenche — 16, 
Chamouni,  with  various  excursions  to  the  Mer  de  Glace,  Jardin,  Buet, 
&c. — 17,  Across  the  Col  de  Balme  to  Martigny,  with  excursions  up  the 
Vallais — 18,  By  the  Valley  of  Entrement,  &c.  to  the  Great  St.  Bernard, 
with  excursions — 19,  Back  to  Martigny — 20,  Evian,  on  the  Lake  of 
Geneva,  with  excursions — 21,  Geneva — 22,  Lausanne,  with  excursions 
— 23,  La  Sarna — 24,  Neuf-Chatel — 25,  Berne,  with  excursions  and 
perambulations — 26,  Thoun — 27,  Valley  of  Lauterbrunen,  -with  various 
circuits — 28,  Grindenwalde,  with  excursions  to  the  Glaciers,  &c. — 29, 
Over  the  Grand  Scheidec  to  Meyrengen,  with  excursions  to  waterfalls, 
&c. — 30  By  Brienz,  Lake  of  Brienz,  Interlaken,  and  Lake  of  Thoun, 
wdth  various  excursions,  to  the  Giesbach  and  other  waterfalls,  back  to 


150 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


Thoun — 31,  Beme — 32,  Zoffengen — 33,  Lucerne,  with  various  excur- 
sions— 34,  Zoug  and  Zurich — 35,  Schaffhausen  and  Falls  of  the  Rhine 
— 36,  Neustad,  in  the  Black  Forest — 37,  By  the  Valle  d’Enfer  to  Offen- 
burgh — 38,  Carlshrue,  with  excursions — 39,  Heidelburg — 40,  Darmstadt 
— 41,  Frankfort  on  the  Maine,  with  excursions — 42,  Mayence,  with  ex- 
cursions— 43,  Coblenz,  Bingen,  Bonn,  &c. — 44,  Cologne — 45,  Aix  la 
Chapelle,  with  excursions — 46,  Liege — 47,  Brussels,  with  a week’s  ex- 
cursions— 48,  Ghent  and  Courtray — 49,  Dunkirk — 50,  Calais — 51, 
Dover— 52,  London. 

Thus,  there  were  52  regular  journeys  during  the  tour,  and  32  days 
spent  in  excursions  and  perambulations.  And  as  there  never  was  so 
much  exercise  or  fatigue  during  the  journeys,  as  during  the  days  of 
sojourn  and  excursions,  it  follows  that  the  whole  of  this  tour  might  be 
made  with  great  ease,  and  the  utmost  advantage  to  health,  in  two 
months.  As  far  as  natural  scenery  is  concerned,  it  would,  perhaps,  be 
difficult  to  select  a tract,  which  could  offer  such  a succession  of  the 
most  beautiful  and  sublime  views,  and  such  a variety  of  interesting  ob- 
jects, as  the  line  which  the  above  route  presents.  It  would  be  better, 
however,  to  dedicate  three  months  to  the  tour,  if  the  time  and  other 
circumstances  permitted,  than  to  make  it  in  two  months ; though,  if 
only  two  months  could  be  spared,  I would  recommend  the  same  line  of 
travel,  where  health  was  the  object.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better,  how- 
ever, to  reverse  the  order  of  the  route,  and  to  commence  with  the  Rhine, 
by  which  plan  the  majesty  of  the  scenery  would  be  gradually  and  pro- 
gressively increasing,  till  the  traveller  reached  the  summit  of  the  Great 
St.  Bernard  or  Mont  Blanc. 

The  foregoing  circuit  was  made,  as  far  as  the  writer  is  concerned, 
entirely  in  the  open  air  ; that  is  to  say,  in  an  open-carriage — in  char- 
a-bancs — on  mules — and  on  foot.  The  exercise  was  always  a combina- 
tion or  quick  succession  of  the  active  and  passive  kinds,  as  advantage 
was  always  taken  of  hills  and  mountains,  on  the  regular  journeys,  to 
get  down  and  walk — while  a great  part  of  each  excursion  was  pedes- 
trian, with  the  char-a-banc  or  mule  at  hand,  when  fatigue  was  expe- 
rienced.* This  plan  possesses  many  advantages  for  the  invalid,  over 


* The  writer  of  this  has  little  hesitation  in  averring,  that  he  walked  full  half  of  the 
whole  distance  which  was  traversed  in  this  tour  : that  is,  that  in  a quarter  of  a year 
he  walked  twelve  or  thirteen  hundred  miles. 


TOURS  OK  HEALTH. 


151 


the  purely  active  or  purely  passive  modes  of  travelling.  The  constant 
alternation  of  the  two  secures  the  benefits  of  both,  without  the  incon- 
venience of  either.  As  the  season  for  travelling  in  Switzerland  is  the 
hottest  of  the  year,  and  as,  in  the  valleys,  the  temperature  is  excessive, 
so,  great  danger  would  be  incurred  by  the  invalid’s  attempting  pedes- 
trian exercise  in  the  middle  of  the  day.  But  by  travelling  passively  in 
the  hot  valleys,  and  walking  whenever  the  temperature  is  moderate  or 
the  ground  elevated,  he  derives  all  the  advantage  which  exercise  of  both 
kinds  can  possibly  confer,  without  any  risk  to  his  health. 

The  journeys  on  this  tour  varied  from  20  to  50  or  60  miles  in  the  day, 
and  were  always  concluded  by  sunset — often  much  before  that  period. 
The  usual  routine  of  meals  was,  some  coffee  at  sunrise,  and  then  exer- 
cise, either  in  pdPambulations,  excursions,  or  on  the  first  stage  of  the 
day’s  journey.  At  noon,  a dejeuner  d la  fourchette,  and  then  immedi- 
ately to  exercise  or  to  travel ; concluding  the  journey  and  the  exercise 
of  the  day  by  dinner  at  8 o’clock  at  the  table-d’hote,  where  a company, 
of  all  nations,  varying  from  10  to  50  or  60  people,  were  sure  to  assem- 
ble, with  appetites  of  tigers  rather  than  of  men.  By  ten,  or  half-past 
ten,  all  were  in  bed,  and  there  was  seldom  a waking  interval  from  that 
time  till  six  in  the  morning,  the  punctual  hour  of  rising. 

In  this  circuit,  we  experienced  great  and  sometimes  very  abrupt  vicis- 
situdes of  temperature,  as  well  as  other  atmospheric  changes ; but,  as 
will  be  presently  seen,  without  any  bad  consequences. — Before  I give 
any  exposition  of  the  moral  and  physical  effects  of  this  kind  of  exercise, 
I may  be  permitted  to  premise,  that  I made  it  one  of  my  principal 
studies,  during  the  whole  course  of  the  tour,  not  only  to  investigate  its 
physiological  effects  on  my  own  person  and  those  of  the  party  (six  in 
number),  but  to  make  constant  enquiries  among  the  numerous  and  often 
intelligent  travellers  with  whom  I journied  or  sojourned  on  the  road. 
Many  of  these  were  invalids — many  affected  with  actual  diseases — a 
considerable  proportion  had  had  dyspeptic  complaints  previously — and 
all  were  capable  of  describing  the  influence  of  travelling-exercise  on  their 
mental  and  corporeal  functions.  What  I am  going  to  say  in  the  sequel, 
on  this  subject,  therefore,  is  the  result  of  direct  personal  experience  and 
observation,  in  Europe,  and  in  almost  every  quarter  of  the  globe,  un- 
biassed by  any  preconceived  opinions  derived  from  books  or  men.  I 
am  not  without  hope  that  my  observations  will  be  of  some  service  to  the 
physician  as  well  as  to  the  invalid,  by  putting  them  in  possession  of 


152 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


facts,  which  cannot  be  ascertained  under  any  other  conditions  than  those 
under  which  they  were  investigated  in  the  present  instance,  or  under 
similar  circumstances. 

SECOND  TOUR, 

Through  France , Switzerland , and  Italy,  in  September,  October,  Novem- 
ber, and  December,  1829. 

1,  Dover — 2,  Calais — 3,  Montreuil — 4,  Granvilliers — 5,  Paris  (with 
excursions) — 6,  Fontainbleau — 7,  Joigny — 8,  Montarbe — 9,  Dijon — 
10,  Auxonne — 11,  St.  Laurent — 12,  Geneva  (with  excursions) — 13, 
Vevay  (by  Lausanne) — 14,  Martigny — 15,  Tourtemagne,  intheVallais 
— 16,  Village  of  the  Simplon — 17,  Baveno,  on  the  Lag*  Maggiore,  with 
excursions  to  the  Islands,  &c. — 18,  Sesto  Calende,  on  the  Ticino — 19, 
Milan,  with  excursions  and  perambulations — 20,  To  the  banks  of  the 
Po,  opposite  Piacenza,  and  back  to  Milan,  the  bridge  being  broken  down 
— 21,  Pavia,  with  perambulations — 22,  Piacenza — 23,  Bologna  (through 
Parma  and  Modena),  with  excursions  and  perambulations — 24,  Caviliajo, 
on  the  Apennines — 25,  Florence,  with  excursions  and  perambulations 
— 26,  Sienna — 27,  Radicofani — 28,  Viterbo — 29,  Rome,  with  various 
perambulations  and  excursions — 30,  Velletri — 31,  Mola  di  Gaeta — 32, 
Naples,  with  various  perambulations,  and  excursions  to  Pompeii,  Her- 
culaneum, &c.  &c. — 33,  Terracina — 34,  Rome — 35,  Aquapendente — 
36,  Florence — 37,  Impoli — 38,  Pisa,  with  excursions — 39,  Sarzana — 
40,  Sestri,  on  the  Mediterranean  shore — 41,  Genoa,  with  perambula- 
tions— 42,  Finale — 43,  St.  Remo — 44,  Nice,  with  perambulations — 
45,  Antibes — 46,  47,  48,  49,  to  Lyons  (day  and  night  by  the  Diligence) 
— 50,  by  vrater  to  Chalons — 51,  2,  3,  4,  to  Paris,  by  Diligence — 55, 
56,  Calais — 57,  Dover — 58,  London. 

In  this  second  tour,  then,  there  were  58  days  spent  in  regular  jour- 
neys, and  about  40  days  in  perambulations.  The  space  traversed  in  this 
tour  amounted  to  about  3500  miles,  and,  with  the  exception  of  eight  or 
ten  days,  it  was  entirely  in  the  open  air,  and  a considerable  proportion 
of  it  pedestrian,  especially  in  mountainous  parts.  As  compared  with 
the  former  tour,  I would  say,  that  Switzerland  and  Germany  are  more 
conducive  to  the  health  of  the  body — Italy  to  the  pleasures,  or  at  least 
the  excitement  of  the  mind.  In  other  words,  I would  say  that  the  first 
tour  is  more  adapted  for  the  Invalid — the  second,  for  a person  in  a con- 


TOURS  OF  HEALTH . 


153 

siderable  degree  of  health.  The  Italian  excursion,  in  fact,  was  under- 
taken rather  as  a relaxation  from  the  “ wear  and  tear”  of  Modern 
Babylon,  than  as  a means  of  restoring  lost  health.  The  renovation, 
however,  of  physical  energies  was  not  less  apparent  nor  real  on  this, 
than  on  the  former  tour.  I may  be  permitted  to  instance  a few  inci- 
dents, illustrating  the  immunity  which  this  kind  of  exercise  confers  on 
travellers,  when  exposed  to  vicissitudes  of  climate  and  malarious  im- 
pressions. 

The  transition  from  the  valley  of  the  Rhone  to  the  summit  of  the 
Simplon  is  not  inconsiderable.  We  slept  one  night  at  Tourtemagne, 
in  the  Vallais,  and  found  it  very  sultry.  The  next  night  we  slept  in  the 
dreary  Hotel  de  la  Poste,  in  the  village  of  the  Simplon,  among  snow  and 
ice,  without  the  least  inconvenience,  much  less  detriment.  It  is  in  Italy, 
however,  that  the  transitions  of  temperature,  and  other  atmospherical 
alternations,  are  most  severely  felt,  especially  by  invalids  who  are  inca- 
pable of  taking  strong  exercise,  or  who  dare  not  expose  themselves  freely 
to  the  open  air  in  all  weathers. 

The  change  of  climate  from  Bologna  to  the  summit  of  the  Apennines, 
though  not  so  abrupt  as  that  from  Sion  to  the  village  of  the  Simplon, 
is  perhaps  more  trying  to  the  constitution.  It  was  exceedingly  hot  all 
the  way  up  the  Apennines,  and  night  as  well  as  a storm  overtook  us 
before  we  got  to  our  solitary  inn  at  Caviliajo — “ the  scene  of  one  of 
those  deep-laid  confederacies  for  plunder  and  assassination,  of  which 
Italy  has  always  been  a prolific  theatre.”*  Notwithstanding  the  tales 
of  banditti  and  the  pelting  of  the  storm,  we  slept  securely,  and  started 
at  day-light  next  morning,  to  pursue  our  journey  down  to  the  romantic 
Val  d’Arno,  and  that  without  catching  either  cold  or  rheumatism. 

But  although  regular  exercise  fortifies  us  much  against  atmospherical 
transitions,  or  even  malaria,  yet,  if  carried  to  fatigue,  it  has  rather  a 
contrary  efifect.  An  instance  may  not  be  uninstructive,  especially  to 
travellers.  I shall  transcribe  it  from  my  notes  on  this  tour.  Having 
arrived  at  Sienna  about  two  hours  before  night,  and  having  only  that 
time  to  see  the  place,  I jumped  from  the  carriage,  without  taking  any 
note  of  the  hotel  where  wre  stopped,  and  wandered,  as  was  my  custom, 
through  all  parts  of  the  city,  till  long  after  it  was  dark.  At  length, 
fatigue,  cold,  and  hunger  reminded  me  of  their  antidotes  ; but,  not 


* Rome  in  the  19th  century. 


X 


154 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


knowing  the  name  either  of  the  street  or  the  hotel  where  we  had  halted, 
I was  forced  to  wander  about  full  another  hour  before  I was  able  to  re- 
join my  companions.  I should  not  have  mentioned  this  trifling  incident, 
were  it  not  on  account  of  what  followed,  and  which  often  follows  fatigue 
and  exposure  to  night  air  in  Italy. 

We  started  at  day-break,  and,  as  the  sun  rose,  and  indeed  for  two 
hours  afterwards,  the  whole  country  presented  the  appearance  of  a placid 
lake,  studded  wTith  small  islands,  each  crowned  with  a town,  village, 
convent,  or  castle.  This  phenomenon  is  occasioned  by  a dense  fog, 
which  covers  the  valleys,  and  looks  like  a sheet  of  water,  leaving  the 
tops  of  the  hills  free,  and  on  which  almost  the  whole  of  the  towns,  vil- 
lages &c.  are  built.  The  air  was  remarkably  raw — and,  about  half-way 
between  Sienna  and  Buono  Convento  (a  road  where  malaria  notoriously 
prevails),  I experienced  the  premonitory  horrors  of  an  ague-fit,  and  the 
first  or  cold  stage  of  the  “ foul  fiend.”  The  fatigue  and  exhaustion  of 
the  preceding  evening  had  doubtless  predisposed  me  to  this  attack;  and 
those  who  have  felt  the  horrible  depression  of  spirits  attendant  on  an 
attack  of  malaria  fever,  can  appreciate  the  feelings  which  rushed  across 
my  mind,  under  the  expectancy  of  being  laid  up  on  the  dreary  moun- 
tain of  Radicofani,  with  some  serious  or  fatal  malady ! Fortunately 
the  day  became  very  hot — I walked  up  two  or  three  of  the  steep  moun- 
tains on  this  road — passed  at  once  from  the  stage  of  shivering  to  that 
of  perspiration — and  baulked  the  malaria  of  Buono  Convento.  The  as- 
cent to  Radicofani  is  five  tedious  Italian  miles.  The  evening  was  set- 
ting in,  as  we  dragged  our  weary  way  up  the  mountain — the  cold  was 
intense — the  scenery  was  that  of  desolation  and  despair. 

So  loud  did  the  Tramontane  winds  howl  through  every  chink  and 
chamber  of  the  dreary  caravansera  on  this  mountain,  that  I could  not 
help  regretting  the  removal  of  old  Vulcan’s  smithery  from  a place  where 
a blast  of  his  forge  would  be  so  rich  a treat  to  the  shivering  traveller. 

The  narrow  escape  from  malaria  fever,  to  which  I was  predisposed  by 
the  fatigue  above-mentioned,  was  entirely  forgotten  the  next  day,  on 
entering  the  holy  territory  of  the  Pope — surveying  the  romantic  scenery 
about  Aquapendente,  the  Lake  of  Bolsena,  Montefiascone,  and  Viterbo, 
which  was  the  next  night’s  place  of  repose. 

It  is  not,  perhaps,  in  the  northern,  the  Alpine,  and  the  Apennine 
portions  of  fair  Italy  that  atmospherical  transitions  are  so  tiying,  as  in 
the  apparently  more  favoured  regions  of  that  fairy  land — for  instance, 


TOURS  OF  HEALTH. 


0£> 


about  Naples.  There  the  Tramontanes,  alternating  with  the  Sirocco,  pro- 
duce the  most  remarkable  effects'  on  the  human  constitution.  It  might 
be  said  without  much  exaggeration,  that  in  Italy  almost  every  breeze 
comes  over  a volcano  or  an  iceberg — and,  consequently,  we  are  alter- 
nately scorched  by  the  one  and  frozen  by  the  other  ! I shall  ever 
remember  the  debilitating — almost  annihilating,  effects  of  a Sirocco  at 
Naples.  It  was  far  worse  than  the  hot  land-winds  at  Madras  or  Viza- 
gapatam  in  the  month  of  May ! On  the  coast  of  Coromandel,  the 
land-winds  are  dry,  however  hot ; but  the  Sirocco,  as  it  sweeps  over  the 
Mediterranean  from  the  burning  sands  of  Africa,  saturates  itself  with 
aqueous  vapour,  and  is  then  poured  in  boiling  steam  on  the  shores  of 
Italy.  The  depressing  effects  of  this  Sirocco  are  indescribable.  After 
dragging  my  weary  limbs  through  all  the  streets  of  Naples,  during  a 
whole  day  of  this  furnace-blast  from  Lybia,  I started  at  day-light  next 
morning  for  Pompeii,  and  that  under  a most  piercing  blast  of  the  Tra- 
montane. Yet  no  injury  was  sustained  by  a day’s  exposure  to  the  chil- 
ling blast — on  account  of  the  seasoning  produced  by  nine  or  ten  weeks 
of  previous,  and  almost  perpetual  motion  in  the  open  air. 

The  consciousness  of  security  against  atmospherical  transitions  and 
malarious  impressions,  has  often  led  me  to  do,  in  travelling,  what  I should 
be  very  sorry  to  do  under  other  circumstances — and  which,  indeed, 
would  not  be  very  wise  under  any  circumstances.  Take  the  following 
for  an  example. 

We  started  from  Terracina,  a little  before  sunset,  in  a carriage  very 
badly  calculated  for  four,  but  compelled  by  the  villainous  courier  of  the 
Pope  (for  which  I hope  he  has  never  received  absolution)  to  hold  an 
additional  passenger,  in  the  shape  (if  shape  he  had)  of  his  own  pot-bel- 
lied son,  besides  baggage  and  luggage  enough  to  load  a caravan.  No- 
thing but  the  philosophy  of  observing  the  Pontine  Marshes  at  night, 
could  have  induced  me  to  bear,  with  any  degree  of  patience,  the  infer- 
nal breath  of  the  father  and  his  urchin,  between  whom  I voluntarily 
placed  myself  to  give  some  invalid  companions  all  the  accommodation 
which  their  health  and  sufferings  required.  But  patience  has  its  bounds, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  first  stage  I got  on  the  outside  of  the  coach,  rather 
to  breathe  the  deleterious  gases  emitted  from  the  fens,  than  inhale  the 
mephitic  airs  generated  within  this  infernal  cauldron.  The  atmosphere 
was  still  as  the  grave — the  moon  shone  faintly  through  a halo  of  fogs 
— and  a dense  vapour  rose  in  all  directions  around  us,  emitting  the 


156 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


most  strange  and  sickly  odour  which  I ever  experienced  on  any  part  of 
the  earth’s  surface.  Under  other  and  ordinary  circumstances,  I should 
have  felt  some  alarm  at  thus  exposing  myself  to  the  full  influence  of 
nocturnal  emanations  from  the  deadly  marshes  over  which  we  were 
passing ; but  a consciousness  of  the  life  which  I had  led  for  three  months, 
inspired  me  with  complete  contempt  for  any  morbific  influence  which 
air  or  earth  could  direct  against  me.  I crossed  the  fens  in  this  philo- 
sophic mood,  while  the  courier  of  St.  Peter  kept  the  windows  of  the 
coach  closely  shut  against  the  dangerous  malaria  of  the  night.  I would 
not  advise  others  to  imitate  this  rash  conduct  on  my  part.  Many  have 
paid  dearly  for  their  curiosity — and  myself  among  the  rest — if  not  on 
this,  on  various  other  occasions. 


THIRD  TOUR. 

Home  Circuit,  1832. 

1,  2,  3,  The  steamer  to  Edinburgh — 4,  Newhaven  to  Stirling,  by 
steam — 5,  Callander — 6,  The.  Trosacks — 7,  Loch  Katrine,  Loch  Lo- 
mond, Dumbarton — 8,  Greenoch — 9,  By  the  Kyles  of  Bute  to  East 
Tarbet — (excursion  by  the  Crinan  Canal,  to  the  Corrivrechan,  &c.  &c.) — 
10,  Inverary  (with  excursion) — 11,  Dalmally — 12,  By  Loch  Awe  to 
Oban — 13,  To  Tobemorey — 14,  StafFa,  Iona,  Oban — 15,  DunstafFnage, 
Glen-Etive,  Ballahulish — 16,  By  the  valley  of  Glenco,  Black  Moor,  &c. 
to  Tyndrum — 17,  Tyndrum  to  Killin — 18,  Kenmore,  by  Loch  Tay — 
19,  Dunkeld — 20,  Killicrankie — 21,  Inverness,  with  various  excursions 
to  Kraig  Phsedric,  &c. — 22,  Caledonian  Canal — Fall  of  Fyers,  &c. — 
23,  Fort  William — 24,  Oban — 25,  Inverary,  across  Loch  Awe — 26,  To 
Loch  Lomond — 27,  Glencroe — 28,  Glasgow — 29,  Ailsa,  (excursion) — 
30,  Lanark,  Falls  of  the  Clyde — 31,  Gretna  Green — 32,  Carlisle — 32, 
33,  34,  English  Lakes — 35,  36,  Liverpool — 37,  Manchester — Rail-roads 
- — 38,  Birmingham — 39,  40,  41,  Leamington — Kennilworth,  &c. — 42, 
Cheltenham,  with  excursions,  &c. — 43,  London. 

Thus  this  highland  excursion  occupied  43  days  of  travelling,  and 
about  28  days  of  sojourn  or  excursions.  Two  delicate  females  accom- 
panied me,  and  were  exposed,  on  various  occasions,  to  great  incle- 
mencies of  weather,  vicissitudes  of  temperature,  rough  fare,  sometimes 
to  wet  beds,  and,  during  the  whole  tour,  to  the  epidemic  cholera.  But 


TOURS  OF  HEALTH. 


157 


the  constant  exercise  in  the  open  air  set  at  nought  all  diseases  and  all 
the  causes  of  disease.  The  travellers  came  back  to  Modern  Babylon, 
in  prime  health,  and  without  ever  thinking  of  bodily  disorder.*  Exer- 
cise, and  especially  travelling  exercise  in  the  open  air,  effects  for  our 
constitutions  what  Mackintosh  does  for  our  cloaks — it  renders  them  air- 
tight and  water-proof.  And  here  I would  offer  a piece  of  advice  to 
some  of  my  countrymen  and  countrywomen,  who  spend  a great  deal 
of  time  and  money  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Cavendish  Square  and 
Dover  Street,  swallowing  large  quantities  of  peptic  precepts  and  blue- 
pill,  under  Drs.  A.  B.  C.  &c. — a class  of  people  who  contrive  to  imagine 
real  ills  till,  at  length,  they  realize  imaginary  ones  : — the  advice  is,  to 
go  to  the  Highland  mountains,  for  change  of  complexion  as  well  as 
change  of  air.  They  will  there  find  water  enough  to  “ raze  out  the 
written  troubles  of  the  brain” — and  air  enough  to  disperse  the  “ green 
and  yellow  melancholy”  that  hangs  upon  their  countenances — and  ex- 
ercise sufficient  to  transform  their  spermaceti  muscles  into  something 
like  youthful  and  elastic  fibre.  Let  these  victims  of  morbid  sensibility 
— perhaps  of  morbid  fancy,  traverse  the  Highland  mountains  for  a couple 
of  months,  and  they  will  learn  to  prefer  oat-cake  to  calomel,  whiskey 
to  senna  draughts,  and  grouse  to  gruel. 


FOURTH  TOUR  OF  HEALTH,  1834. 

Holland — Germany — Switzerland — Italy,  &>c. 

Nights  of  repose.  1,  The  Batavier  steamer — 2,  Rotterdam — -3,  Ley- 
den— 4,  Amsterdam — 5,  Utrecht — 6,  Rotterdam — 7,  Nymeguen — 8, 
On  the  Rhine — 9,  Cologne — 10,  Coblenz — 11,  Mayence — 12,  Carlshrue 
13,  Baden-Baden — 14,  Offenburgh — 15,  Villengen — 16,  Schaffhausen 
— 17,  Zurich — 18,  Rapperschyll — 19,  By  the  Lake  of  Wallenstadt,  to 
Sargans — 20,  Pfeffers — 21,  Coire — 22,  Village  of  the  Splugen,  by  the 
Via  Mala — 23,  Chiavenna,  by  the  Pass  of  the  Splugen — 24,  Round  the 
Lake  of  Como,  in  the  steamer,  to  Como — 25,  By  the  Lake  of  Lugano, 
to  the  town  of  Lugano  (dreadful  storm,  27th  August,  and  detained  seven 
hours  at  the  edge  of  the  Lake) — 26,  Bellinzona — 27,  Attempt  to  ascend 


* Vide  the  Recess,  or  Autumnal  Relaxation  in  the  Highlands  and  Lowlands.  By 
James  Johnson,  M.D.  Octavo. 


158 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


the  St.  Gotliard,  but  the  bridges  destroyed,  and  obliged  to  return  back 
to  Bellinzona — 28,  Luvino,  on  the  Lago  Maggiore,  among  a den  of  rogues 
and  bandits,  who  imposed  on  and  cheated  us — 29,  Across  the  Lago 
Maggiore,  to  ascend  the  Simplon,  which  was  destroyed  in  various 
places — 30,  Novarra,  in  Savoy — 31,  Chiavassa — 32,  Turin — 33,  Suza, 
at  the  foot  of  the  Mont  Cenis — 34,  Across  the  Mont  Cenis,  on  tempo- 
rary bridges,  to  Lans  le  Bourg — 35,  Grand  Maison,  in  the  Valley  of 
the  Arc — 36,  Chamberry — 37,  Frangi — 38,  Geneva — 39,  By  the  Lake 
to  Lausanne — 40,  Morat — 41,  Berne — 42,  Balstall — 43,.  Basle — 44, 
Freyburg — 45,  Achern — 46,  By  Carlshrue  to  Bruchal — 47,  Heidelberg 
— 48,  Darmstadt — 49,  Mayence — 50,  Coblenz — 51,  The  Brunnens — 
52,  Cologne — 53,  Aix-la-Chapelle — 54  and  55,  Antwerp — 56,  At  sea — 
57,  London. 

In  this  tour,  the  same  females  (besides  two  other  friends,)  accompa- 
nied me.*  We  traversed  the  plains  of  Holland,  under  an  intense  sun, 
and  inhaling  all  the  pestiferous  miasmata  that  emanate  from  Dutch  dykes 
and  alluvial  soils,  without  inconvenience.  We  ascended  the  Rhine, 
amidst  all  the  hurly-burly  of  steamers  by  day,  and  contention  for  beds 
and  suppers  at  night.  We  passed  through  the  Brunnens,  throwing 
their  stinking  waters  to  the  dogs — or  to  those  who  prefer  such  villain- 
ous compounds  of  subterraneous  pharmacies  to  the  pure  element  of 
Nature.  We  winded  through  the  valleys  of  Switzerland,  and  ascended 
the  mighty  Alps — sometimes  under  tropical  temperature — sometimes 
deluged  with  rain,  or  frozen  with  snow — but,  at  all  times,  unaffected 
by  these  rapid  and  extensive  vicissitudes. 

BATHS  OF  PFEFFERS. 

As  the  ancient  Romans  sent  their  hypochondriacs  to  Egypt  for  change 
of  air  and  scene,  and  as  the  rail-roads  and  steamers  are  not  yet  esta- 
blished between  the  Thames  and  the  Nile,  I shall  here  give  a short 
description  of  one  of  the  most  curious  localities  which  I have  ever  beheld 
in  all  my  perambulations,  and  which  I would  strongly  recommend  hypo- 
chondriacal and  nervous  invalids,  to  visit,  while  traversing  the  Alpine 
territories  in  search  of  health.  It  is  the  Baths  of  Pfeffers,  in  the 


* Mr.  and  Miss  Hayward,  Mrs.  and  Miss  Johnson,  and  myself. 


BATHS  OF  PFEFFERS. 


159 


Grison  Country,  not  far  from  the  Lake  of  Wallenstadt,  which,  in  itself, 
presents  most  stupendous  scenery. 

Having  procured  five  small  and  steady  horses  accustomed  to  the 
locality,  a party  of  three  ladies  and  two  gentlemen  started  from  the  little 
town  of  Ragatz  on  a beautiful  morning  in  August,  and  commenced  a 
steep  and  zig-zag  ascent  up  the  mountain,  through  a forest  of  majestic 
pines  and  other  trees.  In  a quarter  of  an  hour,  we  heard  the  roar  of  a 
torrent,  but  could  see  nothing  of  it  or  its  bed.  The  path,  however,  soon 
approached  the  verge  of  a dark  and  tremendous  ravine,  the  sides  of 
which  were  composed  of  perpendicular  rocks  several  hundred  feet  high, 
and  at  the  bottom  of  which  the  Tamina,  a rapid  mountain  torrent, 
foamed  along  in  its  course  to  the  valley  of  Sargans,  there  to  fall  into  the 
upper  Rhine.  The  stream  itself,  however,  was  far  beyond  our  view,  and 
was  only  known  by  its  hollow  and  distant  murmurs.  The  ascent,  for 
the  first  three  miles,  is  extremely  fatiguing,  so  that  the  horses  were  ob- 
liged to  take  breath  every  ten  minutes.  The  narrow  path,  (for  it  is 
only  a kind  of  mule-track,)  often  winded  along  the  very  brink  of  the 
precipice,  on  our  left,  yet  the  eye  could  not  penetrate  to  the  bottom  of 
the  abyss.  After  more  than  an  hour  of  toilsome  climbing,  we  emerged 
from  the  wood,  and  found  ourselves  in  one  of  the  most  picturesque  and 
romantic  spots  that  can  well  be  imagined.  The  road  now  meanders 
horizontally  through  a high,  but  cultivated  region,  towards  the  village 
of  Valentz,  through  fields,  gardens,  vineyards,  and  meadowrs,  studded 
with  chaumiers  and  chalets,  perched  fantastically  on  projecting  ledges 
of  rock,  or  sheltered  from  the  winds  by  tall  and  verdant  pines.  The 
prospect  from  Valentz,  or  rather  from  above  the  village,  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  and  splendid  I have  any  where  seen  in  Switzerland.  We 
are  there  at  a sufficient  distance  from  the  horrid  ravine,  to  contemplate 
it  without  terror,  and  listen  to  the  roaring  torrent,  thundering  unseen, 
along  its  rugged  and  precipitous  bed.  Beyond  the  ravine  we  see  the 
monastery  and  village  of  Pfeifers,  perched  on  a high  and  apparently  in- 
accessible promontory,  over  which  rise  alpine  mountains,  their  sides 
covered  with  woods,  their  summits  with  snow,  and  their  gorges  glitter- 
ing  with  glaciers.  But  it  is  towards  the  East  that  the  prospect  is  most 
magnificent  and  varied.  The  eye  ranges,  with  equal  pleasure  and  asto- 
nishment, over  the  valley  of  Sargans,  through  which  rolls  the  infant 
Rhine,  and  beyond  which  the  majestic  ranges  of  the  Rhetian  Alps,  ten 
thousand  feet  high,  rise  one  over  the  other,  till  their  summits  mingle 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


ICO 

with  the  clouds.  Among  these  ranges  the  Scesa-plana,  the  Angsten- 
berg,  the  Flesch,  (like  a gigantic  pyramid,)  and  in  the  distance  the 
Alps  that  tower  round  Feldkirck,  are  the  most  prominent  features. 
During  our  journey  to  the  Baths,  the  morning  sun  played  on  the  snowy 
summits  of  the  distant  mountains,  and  marked  their  forms  on  the  blue 
expanse  behind  them,  in  the  most  distinct  outlines.  But,  on  our  return, 
in  the  afternoon,  when  the  fleecy  clouds  had  assembled,  in  fantastic 
groups,  along  the  lofty  barrier,  the  reflections  and  refractions  of  the  solar 
beams  threw  a splendid  crown  of  glory  round  the  icy  heads  of  the 
Rhetian  Alps — changing  that  “ cold  sublimity”  with  which  the  morning 
atmosphere  had  invested  them,  into  a glow  of  illumination  which  no 
pen  or  pencil  could  portray.  To  enjoy  the  widest  possible  range  of  this 
matchless  prospect,  the  tourist  must  climb  the  peaks  that  overhang  the 
village,  when  his  eye  may  wander  over  the  whole  of  the  Grison  Alps 
and  valleys,  even  to  the  lake  of  Constance. 

From  V alentz  we  turned  abruptly  down  towards  the  ravine,  at  the 
very  bottom  of  which  are  the  Baths  of  Pfeffers.  The  descent  is  by  a 
series  of  acute  and  precipitous  tourniquets,  requiring  great  caution,  as 
the  horses  themselves  could  hardly  keep  on  their  legs,  even  when  eased 
of  their  riders.  At  length  we  found  ourselves  in  the  area  of  a vast 
edifice  resembling  an  overgrown  factory,  with  a thousand  windows,  and 
six  or  seven  stories  high.  It  is  built  on  a ledge  of  rock  that  lies  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Tamina  torrent,  wThich  chafes  along  its  foundation. 
The  precipice  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Tamina,  and  distant  about  fifty 
paces  from  the  mansion,  or  rather  hospital,  rises  five  or  six  hundred 
feet,  as  perpendicular  as  a wall,  keeping  the  edifice  in  perpetual  shade, 
except  for  a few  hours  in  the  middle  of  the  day.  The  left  bank  of  the 
ravine,  on  which  the  hospital  stands,  is  less  precipitous,  as  it  admits  of 
a zig-zag  path  to  and  from  the  Baths.  The  locale,  altogether,  of  such 
an  establishment,  at  the  very  bottom  of  a frightful  ravine,  and  for  ever 
chafed  by  a roaring  torrent,  is  the  most  singularly  wild  and  picturesque 
I had  ever  beheld  ; but  the  wonders  of  Pfeffers  are  not  yet  even  glanced 
at. 

From  the  western  extremity  of  this  vast  asylum  of  invalids,  a narrow 
wooden  bridge  spans  the  Tamina,  and  by  it  we  gain  footing  on  a small 
platform  of  rock  on  the  opposite  side.  Here  a remarkable  phenomenon 
presents  istelf.  The  deep  ravine,  which  had  hitherto  preserved  a width 
of  some  150  feet,  contracts,  all  at  once,  into  a narrow  cleft  or  crevasse, 


BATHS  OF  PFEFFERS. 


161 


of  less  than  20  feet,  whose  marble  sides  shoot  up  from  the  bed  of  the 
torrent,  to  a height  of  four  or  five  hundred  feet,  not  merely  perpendicu- 
lar, but  actually  inclining  towards  each  other,  so  that,  at  their  summits, 
they  almost  touch,  thus  leaving  a narrovr  fissure  through  which  a faint 
glimmering  of  light  descends,  and  just  serves  to  render  objects  visible 
within  this  gloomy  cavern.  Out  of  this  recess  the  Tamina  darts  in  a 
sheet  of  foam,  and  with  a deafening  noise  reverberated  from  the  rocks 
within  and  without  the  crevasse.  On  approaching  the  entrance,  the 
eye  penetrates  a majestic  vista  of  marble  wralls  in  close  approxima- 
tion, and  terminating  in  obscurity,  with  a narrow  waving  line  of  sky 
above,  and  a roaring  torrent  below  ! Along  the  southern  wall  of  this 
sombre  gorge,  a fragile  scaffold,  of  only  two  planks  in  breadth,  is  seen 
to  run,  suspended — as  it  were — in  air,  fifty  feet  above  the  torrent,  and 
three  or  four  hundred  feet  beneath  the  crevice  that  admits  air  and  light 
from  Heaven  into  the  profound  abyss.  This  frail  and  frightful  foot-path 
is  continued  (will  it  be  believed  ?)  nearly  half  a mile  into  the  marble 
womb  of  the  mountain ! Its  construction  must  have  been  a work  of 
great  difficulty  and  peril ; for  its  transit  cannot  be  made  even  by  the 
most  curious  and  adventurous  travellers,  without  fear  and  trembling* 
amounting  often  to  a sense  of  shuddering  and  horror.  Along  these  two 
planks  we  crept  or  crawled,  with  faultering  steps  and  palpitating  hearts. 
It  has  been  my  fortune  to  visit  most  of  the  wonderful  localities  of  this 
globe,  but  an  equal  to  this  I never  beheld. 

“ Imagination  (says  an  intelligent  traveller)  the  most  vivid,  could  not 
portray  the  portals  of  Tartarus  under  forms  more  hideous  than  those  which 
Nature  has  displayed  in  this  place.  We  enter  this  gorge  on  a bridge  of 
planks  (pont  de  planches)  sustained  by  wedges  driven  into  the  rocks.  It 
takes  a quarter  of  an  hour  or  more  to  traverse  this  bridge,  and  it  requires 
the  utmost  precaution.  It  is  suspended  over  the  Tamina,  which  is  heard 
rolling  furiously  at  a great  depth  beneath.  The  wralls  of  this  cavern, 
twisted,  torn,  and  split  (les  parois  laterales  contournees,  fendues,  et 
dechirees)  in  various  ways,  rise  perpendicular,  and  even  incline  towards 
each  other,  in  the  form  of  a dome ; whilst  the  faint  light  that  enters 
from  the  portal  at  the  end,  and  the  crevice  above,  diminishes  as  we 
proceed ; — the  cold  and  humidity  augmenting  the  horror  produced  by 
the  scene.  The  fragments  of  rock  sometimes  overhang  this  gangway 
in  such  a manner,  that  the  passenger  cannot  walk  upright : — At  others, 
the  marble  wall  recedes  so  much,  that  he  is  unable  to  lean  against  it 

Y 


1(>2 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


for  support.  The  scaffold  is  narrow,  often  slippery ; and  sometimes 
there  is  but  a single  plank,  separating  us  from  the  black  abyss  of  the 
Tamina.*  He  who  has  cool  courage,  a steady  eye,  and  a firm  step, 
ought  to  attempt  this  formidable  excursion  (epouvantable  excursion)  in 
clear  and  dry  weather,  lest  he  should  find  the  planks  wet  and  slippery. 

' He  should  start  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  with  a slow  and  measured 
step,  and  without  a stick.  The  safest  plan  is  to  have  two  guides  sup- 
porting a pole,  on  the  inside  of  which  the  stranger  is  to  walk.” 

We  neglected  this  precaution,  and  four  out  of  the  five  pushed  on, 
even  without  a guide  at  all.  At  forty  or  fifty  paces  from  the  entrance 
the  gloom  increases,  while  the  roar  of  the  torrent  beneath,  reverberated 
from  the  sides  of  the  cavern,  augments  the  sense  of  danger  and  the 
horror  of  the  scene.  The  meridian  sun  penetrated  sufficiently  through 
the  narrow  line  of  fissure  at  the  summit  of  the  dome,  to  throw  a variety 
of  lights  and  of  shadows  over  the  vast  masses  of  variegated  marble  com- 
posing the  walls  of  this  stupendous  cavern,  compared  with  which,  those 
of  Salsette,  Elephanta,  and  even  Staffa,  shrink  into  insignificance.  A 
wooden  pipe,  which  conveys  the  hot  waters  from  their  source  to  the 
baths,  runs  along  in  the  angle  between  the  scaffold  and  the  rocks,  and 
proves  very  serviceable,  both  as  a support  for  one  hand  while  pacing  the 
plank,  and  as  a seat,  when  the  passenger  wishes  to  rest,  and  contem- 
plate the  wonders  of  the  cavern.  At  about  one- third  of  the  distance 
inward,  I would  advise  the  tourist  to  halt,  and  survey  the  singular  lo- 
cality in  which  he  is  placed.  The  inequality  of  breadth  in  the  long 
chink  that  divides  the  dome  above,  admits  the  light  in  very  different 
proportions,  and  presents  objects  in  a variety  of  aspects.  The  first  im- 
pression which  occupies  the  mind  is  caused  by  the  cavern  itself,  with 
reflection  on  the  portentous  convulsion  of  Nature  which  split  the  marble 
rock  in  twain,  and  opened  a gigantic  aqueduct  for  the  mountain  torrent.f 


* “ Le  pont  est  etroit,  sou  vent  glissant,  et  quelquefois  on  n’est  separe  que  par  une 
seule  planche  du  noir  abime  de  la  Tamina..” 

f-  It  is  surprising  that  the  author  of  the  “Voyage  Pittoresque  en  Suisse,”  and 
even  Dr.  Ebell,  should  have  been  led  into  the  monstrous  error  of  imagining  that  the 
torrent  of  the  Tamina  had,  in  the  course  of  ages,  hollowed  out  of  the  marble  rock 
this  profound  bed  for  itself.  We  might  just  as  well  suppose,  that,  the  bed  of  the 
Mediterranean  had  been  scooped  out  by  the  waters  of  the  Hellespont,  in  their  way 
from  the  Black  Sea  to  the  Atlantic.  The  mountain  was  rent  by  some  convulsion  of 
Nature,  and  apparently  from  below  upwards,  as  the  breadth, ; he  bed  of  the  Tamina, 
is  far  broader  than  the  external  crevice  above. 


BATHS  OF  PFJSVFERS. 


163 

After  a few  minutes’  rumination  on  the  action  of  subterranean  fire,  our 
attention  is  attracted  to  the  slow  but  powerful  operation  of  water  on 
the  solid  parietes  of  this  infernal  grotto.  We  plainly  perceive  that  the 
boisterous  torrent  has,  in  the  course  of  time,  and  especially  when  swelled 
by  rains,  caused  wonderful  changes  both  in  its  bed  and  its  banks.  I 
would  direct  the  attention  of  the  traveller  to  a remarkable  excavation 
formed  by  the  waters  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  chasm,  and  in  a part 
more  sombre  than  usual,  in  consequence  of  a bridge  that  spans  the  cre- 
vice above,  and  leads  to  the  Convent  of  Pfeifers.  This  natural  grotto  is 
hollowed  out  of  the  marble  rock  to  the  depth  of  30  feet,  being  nearly 
40  feet  in  width,  by  26  feet  in  height.  It  is  difficult  not  to  attribute  it 
to  art : and,  as  the  whole  cavern  constantly  reminds  us  of  the  Tartarean 
Regions,  this  beautifully  vaulted  grotto  seems  to  be  fitted  for  the  throne 
of  Pluto  and  Poserpine — or,  perhaps,  for  the  tribunal  of  Rhadamanthus 
and  his  brothers  of  the  Bench,  while  passing  sentence  on  the  ghosts  that 
glide  down  this  Acheron  or  Cocytus — for  had  the  Tamina  been  known 
to  the  ancient  poets,  it  would  assuredly  have  been  ranked  as  one  of  the 
rivers  of  Hell. 

One  of  the  most  startling  phenomena,  however,  results  from  a per- 
spective view  into  the  cavern,  when  about  midway,  or  rather  less,  from 
its  portal.  The  rocky  vista  ends  in  obscurity  ; but  gleams  and  columns 
of  light  burst  down  in  many  places,  from  the  meridian  sun,  through  this 
“ palpable  obscure,”  so  as  to  produce  a wonderful  variety  of  light  and 
shade,  as  well  as  of  bas-relief,  along  the  fractured  walls.  While  sitting 
on  the  rude  wooden  conduit  before  alluded  to,  and  meditating  on  the 
infernal  region  upon  which  I had  entered,  I was  surprised  to  behold,  at  a 
great  distance,  the  figures  of  human  beings,  or  thin  shadows  (for  I could 
not  tell  which),  advancing  slowly  towards  me — suspended  between 
Heaven  and  earth — or,  at  least,  between  the  vault  of  the  cavern  and  the 
torrent  of  the  Tamina,  without  any  apparent  pathway  to  sustain  their 
steps,  but  seemingly  treading  in  air,  like  disembodied  spirits  ! While 
my  attention  was  rivetted  on  these  figures,  they  suddenly  disappeared  ; 
and  the  first  impression  on  my  mind  was,  that  they  had  fallen  and 
perished  in  the  horrible  abyss  beneath.  The  painful  sensation  was  soon 
relieved  by  the  re-appearance  of  the  personages  in  more  distinct  shapes, 
and  evidently  composed  of  flesh  and  blood.  Again  they  vanished  from 
my  sight ; and,  to  my  no  small  astonishment,  I beheld  their  ghosts  or 
their  shadows  advancing  along  the  opposite  side  of  the  cavern  ! These, 


0X0 MY  OF  HEALTH. 


1(54 

and  many  other  optical  illusions,  were  caused,  of  course,  by  the  peculiar 
nature  of  the  locality,  and  the  unequal  manner  in  which  the  light  pene- 
trated from  above  into  this  sombre  chasm. 

Surprise  was  frequently  turned  into  a sense  of  danger,  when  the  par- 
ties, advancing  and  retreating,  met  on  this  narrow  scaffold.  The  “ laws 
of  the  road”  being  different  on  the  Continent  from  those  in  old  England, 
my  plan  was  to  screw  myself  up  into  the  smallest  compass,  close  to  the 
rock,  and  thus  allow  passengers  to  steal  by  without  opposition.  We 
found  that  comparatively  few  penetrated  to  the  extremity  of  the  cavern 
and  the  source  of  the  Thermae — the  majority  being  frightened,  or  finding 
themselves  incapable  of  bearing  the  sight  of  the  rapid  torrent  under  their 
feet,  without  any  solid  security  against  precipitation  into  the  infernal 
gulf.  To  the  honour  of  the  English  ladies,  I must  say  that  they  ex- 
plored the  source  of  the  waters  with  the  most  undaunted  courage,  and 
without  entertaining  a thought  of  returning  from  a half-finished  tour  to 
the  regions  below.* 

Advancing  still  farther  into  the  cavern,  another  phenomenon  presented 
itself,  for  which  wre  were  unable  to  account  at  first.  Every  now  and 
then  we  observed  a gush  of  vapour  or  smoke  (we  could  not  tell  which) 
issue  from  the  further  extremity  of  the  rock  on  the  left,  spreading  itself 
over  the  wralls  of  the  cavern,  and  ascending  towards  the  crevice  in  the 
dome.  It  looked  like  an  explosion  of  steam ; but  the  roar  of  the  tor- 
rent would  have  prevented  us  from  hearing  any  noise,  if  such  had  oc- 
curred. We  soon  found,  however,  that  it  was  occasioned  by  the  rush 
of  vapour  from  the  cavern  in  which  the  thermal  source  is  situated,  every 
time  the  door  was  opened  for  the  ingress  or  egress  of  visitors  to  and 
from  this  natural  vapour-bath.  At  such  moments  the  whole  scene  is  so 
truly  Tartarean,  that  had  Virgil  and  Dante  been  acquainted  with  it,  they 
need  not  have  strained  their  imaginations  in  portraying  the  ideal  abodes 
of  fallen  angels,  infernal  gods,  and  departed  spirits,  but  painted  a Hades 
from  Nature,  with  all  the  advantage  of  truth  and  reality  in  its  favour. 

Our  ingress  occupied  nearly  half  an  hour,  when  we  found  ourselves 
at  the  extremity  of  the  parapet,  on  a jutting  ledge  of  rock,  and  where 
the  cavern  assumed  an  unusually  sombre  complexion,  in  consequence  of 


* This  has  not  always  been  the  case.  The  talented  authoress  of  “ Reminiscences 
of  the  Rhine,”  &c.  appears  to  have  lacked  courage  for  this  enterprise,  though  her 
beautiful  daughters  advanced  to  the  further  extremity  of  the  gorge. 


BATHS  OF  I'FEFFERS. 


165 


the  cliffs  actually  uniting,  or  nearly  so,  at  the  summit  of  the  dome. 
Here,  too,  the  Tamina  struggled,  roared,  and  foamed  through  the  narrow, 
dark,  and  rugged  gorge  with  tremendous  impetuosity  and  deafening  noise, 
the  sounds  being  echoed  and  reverberated  a thousand  times  by  the  frac- 
tured angles  and  projections  of  the  cavern.  We  were  now  at  the  source 
of  the  Thermae.  Ascending  some  steps  cut  out  of  the  rock,  we  came 
to  a door,  which  opened,  and  instantly  enveloped  us  in  tepid  steam. 
We  entered  a grotto  in  the  solid  marble,  but  of  what  dimensions  we 
could  form  no  estimate,  since  it  was  dark  as  midnight,  and  full  of  dense 
and  fervid  vapour.  We  were  quickly  in  an  universal  perspiration.  The 
guides  hurried  us  forward  into  another  grotto,  still  deeper  in  the  rock, 
where  the  steam  was  suffocating,  and  where  we  exuded  at  every  pore. 
It  was  as  dark  as  pitch.  An  owl  would  not  have  been  able  to  see  an 
eagle  within  a foot  of  its  saucer  eyes.  We  were  told  to  stoop  and 
stretch  out  our  hands.  We  did  so,  and  immersed  them  in  the  boiling — 
or,  at  least,  the  gurgling,  source  of  the  Pfeffers.  We  even  quaffed  at 
this  fountain  of  Hygeia. 

Often  had  we  slept  in  damp  linen,  while  travelling  through  Holland, 
Germany,  and  Switzerland.  We  had  now,  by  way  of  variety,  a waking 
set  of  teguments  saturated  with  moisture  ab  interno,  as  well  as  ab  externo, 
to  such  an  extent,  that  I believe  each  of  us  would  have  weighed  at  least 
half  a stone  more  at  our  exit  than  on  our  entrance  into  this  stew-pan 
of  the  Grison  Alps. 

On  emerging  into  the  damp,  gelid,  and  gloomy  atmosphere  of  the 
cavern,  every  thing  appeared  of  a dazzling  brightness  after  our  short 
immersion  in  the  Cimmerian  darkness  of  the  grotto.  The  transition  of 
temperature  was  equally  as  abrupt  as  that  of  light.  The  vicissitude 
could  have  been  little  less  than  50  or  60  degrees  of  Fahrenheit  in  one 
instant,  with  all  the  disadvantage  of  dripping  garments ! It  was  like 
shifting  the  scene,  with  more  than  theatrical  celerity,  from  the  Black 
Hole  of  Calcutta  to  Fury  Beach,  or  the  snows  of  Nova  Zembla.  Some 
of  the  party,  less  experienced  in  the  effects  of  travelling  than  myself, 
considered  themselves  destined  to  illustrate  the  well-known  allegory  of 
the  discontented — and  that  they  would  inevitably  carry  away  with  them 
a large  cargo  of  that  which  thousands  come  here  annually  to  get  rid 
of — Rheumatism.  I confess  that  I was  not  without  some  misgivings 
myself  on  this  point,  seeing  that  we  had  neither  the  means  of  changing 
our  clothes  nor  of  drying  them — except  by  the  heat  of  our  bodies  in  the 


1(5(3 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


mountain  breeze.  The  Goddess  of  Health,  however,  who  is  nearly 
related  to  the  Genius  of  Travelling,  preserved  us  from  all  the  bad 
consequences,  thermometrical  and  hygrometrical,  of  these  abrupt  vicis- 
situdes.* 

We  retrograded  along  the  narrow  plank  that  suspended  us  over  the 
profound  abyss  with  caution,  fear,  and  astonishment.  The  Tamina 
seemed  to  roar  more  loud  and  savage  beneath  us,  as  if  incensed  at  our 
safe  retreat.  The  sun  had  passed  the  meridian,  and  the  gorge  had 
assumed  a far  more  lugubrious  aspect  than  it  wore  on  our  entrance. 
The  shivered  rocks  and  splintered  pinnacles  that  rose  on  each  side  of 
the  torrent,  in  gothic  arches  of  altitude  sublime,  seemed  to  frown  on 
our  retreating  footsteps — while  the  human  figures  that  moved  at  a dis- 
tance along  the  crazy  plank,  before  and  behind  us,  frequently  lost  their 
just  proportions,  and  assumed  the  most  grotesque  and  extraordinary 
shapes  and  dimensions,  according  to  the  degree  of  light  admitted  by  the 
narrow  fissure  above,  and  the  scarcely  discernible  aperture  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  this  wonderful  gorge.  The  Tamina,  meanwhile,  did  not  fail 
to  play  its  part  in  the  gorgeous  scene — astounding  the  eye  by  the 
rapidity  of  its  movements,  and  astonishing  the  ear  by  the  vibrations  of 
its  echoes.  It  seemed  to  growl  more  furiously  as  we  receded  from  the 
depths  of  the  crevasse. 

At  length  we  gained  the  portal,  and,  as  the  sun  was  still  darting  his 
bright  rays  into  the  deepest  recesses  of  the  ravine,  glancing  from  the 
marble  rocks,  and  glittering  on  the  boiling  torrent,  the  sudden  transition 
from  Cimmerian  gloom  to  dazzling  day-light,  appeared  like  enchantment. 
While  crossing  the  trembling  bridge,  I looked  back  on  a scene  which 
can  never  be  eradicated  from  my  memory.  It  is  the  most  singular  and 
impressive  I have  ever  beheld  on  this  globe,  and  compared  with  wrhich, 
the  Brunnens  are  “ bubbles”  indeed  If 


* This  circumstance  illustrates,  in  a very  remarkable  manner,  the  effects  of  passing 
from  a hot,  or  vapour-bath,  into  cold  air  or  water.  The  immunity  is  nearly  certain. 
The  hotter  the  medium  from  which  we  start  into  the  cold,  the  less  danger  there  is  of 
suffering  any  inconvenience.  This  principle  in  Hygiene  is  more  understood  than 
practised.  It  will  be  adverted  to  farther  on. 

+ Lest  I should  be  suspected  of  exaggeration,  in  this  account  of  the  Baths  of 
Pfeffers,  I shall  here  introduce  a short  extract  from  “ Reminiscences  of  the 
Rhine,  &c.”  by  Mrs.  Boddington — a work  eulogized  to  the  skies  in  the  Edinburgh 
Review,  and  its  author  represented  (and,  I understand,  deservedly)  as  a lady  of  very 
superior  talents  and  of  strict  veracity.  After  some  slight  notice  of  the  Bath-house, 
Mrs.  B.  proceeds  thus  : — 


WATERS  OF  PFEFFERS. 


167 


THE  WATERS  OF  PFEFFERS AND  THERMAL  WATERS  IN  GENERAL. 

The  Waters  of  Pfeffers  have  neither  taste,  smell,  nor  colour.  They 
will  keep  for  ten  years,  without  depositing  a sediment,  or  losing  their 
transparency.  But  we  are  not  to  infer  that  they  are  destitute  of  medi- 
cinal powers,  because  they  possess  no  sensible  properties.  In  their 
chemical  composition,  they  have  hitherto  shewn  but  few  ingredients ; 
and  those  of  the  simpler  saline  substances,  common  to  most  mineral 
springs.* *  It  does  not  follow,  however,  that  they  contain  no  active 
materials  because  chemistry  is  not  able  to  detect  them.  Powerful  agents 
may  be  diffused  in  waters,  and  which  are  incapable  of  analysis,  or  des- 
tructible by  the  process  employed  for  that  purpose.  The  only  sure 
test  is  experience  of  their  effect  on  the  human  body.  It  is  not  pro- 
bable that  the  Baths  of  Pfeffers  would  have  attracted  such  multitudes  of 
invalids,  annually,  from  Switzerland,  Germany,  and  Italy ; and  that  for 
six  centuries,  if  their  remedial  agency  had  been  null  or  imaginary  .f  Their 


“ Behind  rolls  the  stormy  Tamina,  hemmed  in  at  one  side  by  the  dark  Bath-house 
and  the  impending  cliffs,  while,  on  the  other,  a giant  wall  of  perpendicular  rock, 
starting  up  daringly,  and  shutting  out  the  world — almost  the  light  of  Heaven — closes 
up  the  scene.  Our  guide  proposed  that  we  should  visit  the  mineral  springs  that  boil 
up  from  the  depth  of  an  awful  cavern,  several  hundred  paces  from  the  Bath-house. 
A bridge  thrown  from  rock  to  rock,  crosses  the  flood,  and  a narrow  ledge  of  planks, 
fixed,  I know  not  how,  against  the  side  of  the  rock,  and  suspended  over  the  fierce 
torrent,  leads  through  a long,  dark  chasm  to  the  source.  I ventured  but  a little  way  ; 
for,  when  1 found  myself  on  the  terrifying  shelf,  without  the  slightest  ballustrade, 
and  felt  it  slippery,  from  the  continual  spray,  and  nothing  between  us  and  the 
yawning  gulf,  to  which  darkness,  thickening  at  every  step,  gave  increased  horror, 
I made  a few  rapid  reflections  on  foolhardiness  and  retreated.” 

* In  an  old  account  of  the  baths  we  find  the  following  passage: — “ The  water 
of  these  baths  is  extremely  clear,  without  taste  or  smell.  It  bears  with  it  the  most 
subtle  spirits  of  sulphur,  nitre,  vitriol,  and  divers  metals — amongst  others,  gold.” 

f In  many  people  they  produce  slight  vertigo — in  more,  they  act  freely  on  the 
bowels.  They  were  discovered  in  the  12th  century,  by  two  chasseurs  from  the 
neighbouring  monastery,  who  were  seeking  birds’  nests  in  the  ravine  of  the  Tamina. 
For  a long  time  they  could  only  descend  to  these  baths  by  means  of  ropes ; but  at 
length  human  ingenuity  formed  zig-zags  along  the  rocks.  As  if  every  thing  relating 
to  these  waters  should  partake  of  the  wonderful,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  they  begin 
to  flow  in  May,  when  the  Summer  is  approaching — are  at  their  acme  when  the  skies 
are  fervid  and  the  land  parched  with  thirst,  yielding  1500  pints  of  water  every  minute 
— and  cease  entirely  in  September,  when  the  rains  begin  to  fail,  and  the  mountain 
streams  to  pour  freely  along  every  declivity  ! 


168 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


visiters  are  not  of  that  fashionable  class,  who  run  to  watering-places  for 
pleasure  rather  than  for  health — or  to  dispel  the  vapours  of  the  town 
by  the  pure  air  of  the  coast  or  the  country.  Yet,  as  human  nature  is 
essentially  the  same  in  all  ranks  of  society,  I have  no  doubt  that  much 
of  the  fame  acquired  by  the  Baths  of  Pfeifers  (as  well  as  many  other 
baths)  has  been  owing  to  the  auxiliary  influence  of  air,  locality,  change 
of  scene,  moral  impressions,  and  the  peculiar  mode  of  using  the  waters. 
Their  temperature — 100°  of  Fahr. — certain  physical  phenomena  which 
they  evince,  and  the  nature  of  the  diseases  which  they  are  reported  to 
cure,  leave  little  doubt  in  my  mind  that  their  merits,  though  over-rated, 
like  those  of  all  other  mineral  springs,  are  very  considerable. 

The  disorders  for  which  they  are  most  celebrated,  are  rheumatic  and 
neuralgic  pains,  glandular  swellings,  and  cutaneous  eruptions.  But 
they  are  also  resorted  to  by  a host  of  invalids  afflicted  with  those  ano- 
malous and  chronic  affections,  to  which  nosology  has  assigned  no  name, 
and  for  which  the  Pharmacopoeia  affords  very  few  remedies.  As  the 
Baths  belong  to  the  neighbouring  Convent  of  Pfeifers,  and  as  the  holy 
fathers  afford  not  only  spiritual  consolation  to  the  patients,  but  medical 
assistance  in  directing  the  means  of  cure,  there  is  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve, or  at  least  to  hope,  that  the  moral,  or  rather  divine  influence  of 
Religion  co-operates  with  mere  physical  agency,  in  removing  disease  and 
restoring  health. 

The  Waters  of  Pfeffers  are  led  from  their  sombre  source  in  the  ca- 
vern, along  the  narrow  scaffold  before  described,  into  a series  of  Baths 
scooped  out  of  the  rocky  foundation  of  this  vast  hospital,  each  bath  ca- 
pable of  accommodating  a considerable  number  of  people  at  the  same 
time.  The  thermal  waters  are  constantly  running  into  and  out  of  the 
baths — or  rather  through  them,  so  that  the  temperature  is  preserved 
uniform,  and  the  waters  themselves  in  a state  of  comparative  purity, 
notwithstanding  the  numbers  immersed  in  them.  The  Baths  are  arched 
with  stone — the  window  to  each  is  small,  admitting  little  light  and  less 
air ; — and,  as  the  doors  are  kept  shut,  except  when  the  bathers  are  en- 
tering or  retiring,  the  whole  space  not  occupied  by  water,  is  full  of  a 
dense  vapour,  as  hot  as  the  Thermae  themselves.  The  very  walls  of  the 
baths  are  warm,  and  always  dripping  with  moisture.  Such  are  the  Su- 
datoria in  which  the  German,  Swiss,  and  Italian  invalids  indulge  more 
luxuriously  than  ever  did  the  Romans  in  the  Baths  of  Caracalla.  In 
these  they  lie  daily,  from  two  to  six,  eight,  ten — and  sometimes  sixteen 


WATERS  OF  PFEFFERS. 


169 


hours  !*  The  whole  exterior  of  the  body  is  thus  soaked,  softened — - 
parboiled  ; while  the  interior  is  drenched  by  large  quantities  swallowed 
by  the  mouth — the  patient,  all  this  while,  breathing  the  dense  vapour 
that  hovers  over  the  baths.  The  Waters  of  Pfeifers,  therefore,  inhaled 
and  imbibed,  exhaled  and  absorbed,  for  so  many  hours  daily,  must  per- 
meate every  vessel,  penetrate  every  gland,  and  percolate  through  every 
pore  of  the  body.  So  singular  a process  of  human  maceration  in  one 
of  Nature’s  caldrons,  conducted  with  German  patience  and  German  en- 
thusiasm, must,  I think,  relax  many  a rigid  muscle — unbend  many  a 
contracted  joint — soothe  many  an  aching  nerve — clear  many  an  un- 
sightly surface — resolve  many  an  indurated  gland — open  many  an  ob- 
structed passage — and  restore  many  a suspended  function.  The  fervid 
and  detergent  streams  of  the  Pfeifers,  in  fact,  are  actually  turned,  daily 
and  hourly,  through  the  Augean  stable  of  the  human  constitution,  and 
made  to  rout  out  a host  of  maladies  indomitable  by  the  prescriptions  of 
the  most  sage  physicians.  The  fable  of  Medea’s  revival  of  youthful 
vigour  in  wasted  limbs  is  very  nearly  realized  in  the  mountains  of  the 
Grisons,  and  in  the  savage  ravine  of  the  Tamina.  Lepers  are  here  pu- 
rified— the  lame  commit  their  crutches  to  the  flames — the  tumid  throat 
and  scrofulous  neck  are  reduced  to  symmetrical  dimensions — and  sleep 
revisits  the  victim  of  rheumatic  pains  and  neuralgic  tortures. 

That  many  circumstances,  connected  with  the  singular  locality  of  the 
Pfeifers,  conduce  to  their  medicinal  reputation,  there  can  be  little  doubt. 
The  Baths  themselves,  though  at  the  bottom  of  a ravine  nearly  a thou- 
sand feet  deep,  are  yet  at  a considerable  height  above  the  neighbouring 
valley,  and  very  far  above  the  level  of  the  ocean.  The  air  feels  pecu- 
liarly light  and  pure,  even  in  the  depth  of  the  gorge  ; while  the  sur- 
rounding precipices  and  lofty  mountains  must  preserve  a remarkable 
equilibrium  of  temperature.  The  sun  can  penetrate  the  profundity  of 
the  ravine  only  during  a few  hours  in  the  middle  of  the  day  ; and  the 
sojourners  can  easily  defend  themselves  from  his  rays  writhin  the  walls 
of  this  vast  sudatorium — or  in  the  cool  and  gloomy  cavern  itself.  The 
tempest  may  roll,  the  thunders  may  roar,  and  the  lightnings  may  play 


* A German  writer  informs  us  that  the  country  people  stay  in  these  Baths  from 
Saturday  night  till  Monday  morning.  “ Tous  les  Samedis  on  voit  accourir  h.  Pfeffers 
une  multitude  de  gens  des  campagnes  voisines,  et  ils  restent  dans  le  bains  jusqu’au 
Lundi  matin  pour  provoquer  la  sueur.” 


Z 


I/O 


KCONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


round  the  lofty  Alpine  peaks  ; but  the  profound  depth  of  the  ravine 
maintains  its  sombre  serenity  of  atmosphere  unchanged,  and  the  whole 
locality  looks  like  a little  colony  that  had  sunk  from  the  surface  of  the 
upper  "world,  and  was  only  reminded  of  its  existence  by  the  distant  war 
of  the  elements. 

When  rains  descend  into  the  ravine,  valetudinarians  have  ample  space 
for  exercise  under  the  arcades  of  the  building,  or  in  its  spacious  “ salles 
d manger .”  When  the  weather  is  fine,  there  is  a terrace  in  the  open 
air,  cut  out  of  the  rock  close  to  the  Baths,  for  such  as  are  incapable  of 
much  exertion.  To  those  however,  -who  are  able  to  scale  the  neigh- 
bouring heights,  is  opened  a fund  of  pleasure  and  health,  such  as  no 
place  that  I have  visited  on  the  face  of  this  globe  can  present.  On  the 
right  bank  of  the  Tamina,  a staircase  is  hewn  out  of  the  solid  marble, 
by  which  you  ascend  to  a beautiful  little  plateau,  on  -which  is  built  the 
convent,  as  well  as  the  village  of  Pfeffers.  This  table-land  is  in  the  form 
of  a triangle,  two  sides  of  which  are  almost  perpendicular  precipices  of 
nearly  a thousand  feet — one  overhanging  the  Tamina — the  other  over- 
looking the  valley  of  Sargans,  through  which  meanders  the  upper  Rhine. 
The  third  side  connects  this  elevated  plain  with  one  of  the  most  cele- 
brated Alps  of  the  Grisons — the  Galanda.  The  monks,  in  all  ages, 
have  evinced  their  taste  in  the  selection  of  healthy  as  well  as  beautiful 
sites  for  their  monasteries  and  convents.  The  plateau  of  Pfeffers  is 
most  delightfully  situated,  under  the  shelter  of  the  Galanda  and  other 
mountains  in  its  rear,  and  with  the  romantic  valley  of  Sargans  beneath 
it  in  front.  The  ascent  to  the  summit,  or  Belvidere  of  the  Galanda,  on 
this  side  of  the  ravine,  is  a work  of  labour;  but  the  lover  of  magnificent 
scenery  would  be  repaid  by  one  of  the  most  splendid  prospects  in  the 
world,  while  the  hypochondriacal  invalid  would,  most  assuredly,  throw 
off  his  load  of  “ blue  devils,”  and  imaginary  ills,  before  he  got  half  way 
to  the  apex  of  this  gigantic  pyramid.  The  chain  of  the  Rhetian  Alps 
rises  like  a wall  before  him — the  lake  of  Wallenstadt  with  its  stupen- 
dous and  impending  scenery,  is  under  his  feet — the  lake  of  Constance  is 
in  the  distance — and  a sea  of  Alps  encompasses  him  on  every  side. 

Invalids  of  weaker  powers,  and  less  ambitious  views,  may  mount 
almost  entirely  on  mules  or  small  horses,  from  the  western  bank  of 
the  Tamina — namely,  from  the  Baths,  by  the  romantic  village  of  V a- 
lenz,  to  the  mountains  that  tower  over  the  hamlet,  where  they  will  en- 
joy a prospect  little  inferior  to  that  which  is  seen  from  the  Galanda, 


WATERS  OF  PFEFKERS.  17 1 

and  where  the  sublime  and  beautiful  are  scattered  in  the  most  bountiful 
profusion.* 

If  we  consider  attentively  the  remarkable  process  of  bathing,  already 
described — the  equable  temperature  maintained  in  the  ravine — the  moral 
impressions  made  on  the  mind  of  the  stranger  by  the  stupendous  and 
romantic  scenes  around  him — the  opportunities,  and  even  the  induce- 
ments, for  every  species  of  exercise,  from  the  slow  saunter  on  the  level 
terrace,  to  the  laborious  ascent  of  the  cloud-capt  Alp — and,  lastly,  the 
invigorating  influence  of  the  mountain-breeze,  after  protracted  immersion 
in  hot  water,  and  long  inhalation  of  tepid  vapour — we  can  scarcely  doubt 
that  all  these  moral  and  physical  agencies  combined,  must  produce  very 
remarkable  effects  on  the  human  constitution — and  those  of  a very  be- 
neficial kind,  particularly  in  certain  maladies. 


* It  is  equally  curious  and  interesting  to  observe  the  series  of  gradations  and 
changes  that  present  themselves  to  the  eye  of  the  spectator,  while  standing  on  an 
eminence  of  five  or  six  thousand  feet,  and  in  the  vicinity  of  the  high  Alps.  First, 
the  cap  of  dazzling  and  unsullied  snow,  crowning  each  mountain-top  “ in  frigid 
majesty  — then  the  naked  and  primaeval  granite,  starting  out  through  the  thinner 
coats  of  snow — a little  lower  down  we  see  specks  of  scanty  vegetation,  preserving  a 
miserable  and  precarious  existence  amidst  storms  and  avalanches — then  the  stunted 
pine,  extracting  nutriment  from  the  crevices  of  the  rocks — next  in  succession,  we 
see  small  pieces  of  pasturage,  maintaining  the  goat,  with  its  outlaw,  the  chamois, 
and  presenting  the  first  and  worst  of  human  habitations — the  Chalet.  Descending 
still  lower,  the  dark  “ piney  forest”  contrasts  deeply  with  the  masses  of  “ unfathom’d 
snows”  that  hang  over  it,  and  seems  to  stand  as  the  barrier  between  the  region  of 
desolation  and  that  of  fertility.  Now  the  Chaumieres  or  Swiss  cottages  supersede 
the  chalets,  or  goat-herds’  huts,  perched  on  ledges  of  rocks,  and  surrounded  by 
meadows,  corn-fields,  gardens,  and  even  vineyards  ; — with  cattle  grazing,  shepherds 
tending  their  flocks,  and  peasants  labouring  in  every  kind  of  rural  avocation.  From 
the  region  of  eternal  snow,  down  to  the  sunny  vales  of  the  Alps,  we  see  the  glittering 
glaciers  wedged  in  the  deep  ravines,  and  slowly  descending  in  rivers  of  solid  ice,  each 
disgorging  from  its  dark  recesses  a rapid  and  roaring  torrent,  the  noisy  herald  of  the 
Alps,  announcing  their  contributions  to  the  mighty  ocean.  Lastly,  the  eye  rests  on 
the  tranquil  and  glassy  lake,  the  mirror  of  the  mountains,  reflecting  from  its  polished 
surface  the  hoary  peak  and  frowning  cliff — the  verdant  field  and  gloomy  forest — the 
solitary  hut  and  smiling  cottage — the  foaming  cataract  and  fearful  precipice — all  the 
materials  and  features,  in  short,  of  the  magnificent  amphitheatre.  The  contemplative 
spectator  beholds,  with  equal  delight  and  astonishment,  another  Heaven  and  another 
Earth  depicted  ten  thousand  feet  beneath  him,  illustrating,  and  infinitely  surpassing, 
the  beautiful  description  of  the  poet — Prior  : — 

“ As  when  some  smooth  expanse  receives,  impressed, 

Calm  Nature’s  image  on  its  wat’ry  breast ; — 

Down  bend  the  banks,  the  trees  depending  grow. 

And  skies  beneath,  with  answering  colours  glow.” 


172 


ECONOMY  or  HKAI.TII. 


It  is  clear,  however,  that  there  are  many  complaints  to  which  the 
Baths  of  Pfeffers,  and  other  thermal  waters,  might  prove  injurious. 
In  pulmonary  affections  of  all  kinds,  warm  baths  are  more  than  doubt- 
ful— they  are  generally  prejudicial.  The  afflux  of  blood  to  the  surface, 
while  in  the  bath,  must  be  followed  by  more  or  less  of  efflux  from  the 
periphery  to  the  centre  of  the  body — and  then  the  weak  organ  will  ex- 
perience more  injury  than  benefit  from  the  operation.  Besides  this, 
there  is  a certain  degree  of  re-action  that  follows  all  baths,  both  hot  and 
cold — and  this  re-action  or  excitement  almost  always  aggravates  the 
symptoms  of  chronic  inflammation,  or  organic  disease  of  internal  struc- 
tures. Chronic  hepatitis  may  form  an  exception  sometimes.  The  ex- 
citement of  the  tepid  bath  on  the  skin  generally  increases  the  secretion 
of  bile,  and  in  that  way  relieves  a congested  liver.  But,  even  here,  the 
bath  should  never  be  more  than  tepid. 

The  same  observations  apply  to  all  organic  affections  of  the  heart. 
The  tide  of  the  circulation,  in  such  cases,  should  never  be  accelerated 
by  either  warm  or  cold  bathing — or  by  the  exercise  of  climbing  heights, 
in  such  localities  as  the  Pfeffers.  I have  seen,  in  my  wanderings  on 
the  Continent,  many  invalids  incautiously  sent  to  drink  and  bathe  in 
various  medicinal  waters,  and  where  injury  would  almost  inevitably  be 
the  result. 

In.  determinations  (as  they  are  called)  to  the  head — in  chronic  affec- 
tions of  the  membranes,  of  the  vessels,  or  of  the  substance  of  the  brain, 
hot  or  cold  baths  are  decidedly  contra-indicated,  and  for  the  reasons  al- 
ready adduced. 

As  people  with  acute  diseases  are  seldom  sent  to  such  places  as  these, 
it  may  seem  unnecessary  to  allude  to  them  here ; but  I cannot  help 
taking  this  opportunity  of  cautioning  against  a practice  by  no  means 
uncommon  in  this  country — namely,  the  employment  of  warm,  and  even 
hot  baths  in  acute  rheumatism,  and  other  inflammations.  I can  safely 
declare  that  I never  yet  saw  any  good  effects  from  such  procedure ; — 
but,  on  the  contrary,  that  I have  very  generally  observed  an  augmen- 
tation of  the  fever — or,  what  is  worse,  an  increased  tendency  to  trans- 
lation— not  merely  from  joint  to  joint,  but  from  the  surface  to  some  in- 
ternal organ,  especially  the  heart.  I have  been  long  in  the  habit,  while 
investigating  hypertrophy  of  the  heart,  succeeding  acute  rheumatism,  to 
inquire  respecting  the  treatment  of  the  original  disease ; and  I have 
found  that,  in  more  than  three-fourths  of  these  cases,  the  hot  bath  had 
been  employed  to  relieve  the  pains  of  the  limbs.  Acute  rheumatism  is 


THERMAL  MEDICINAL  WATERS. 


173 


a specific,  and  not  a common  inflammation.  It  is  not  to  be  cured  by- 
general  and  local  bleeding,  like  other  topical  phlegmasia?.  The  blood, 
indeed,  will  be  found  highly  inflamed  ; but  that  does  not  authorise  vene- 
section in  this  particular  case,  any  more  than  the  same  phenomenon 
would  in  pregnancy.  Acute  rheumatism  is  a very  manageable  disease, 
if  baths  and  blood-letting  are  left  alone,  in  general,  and  calomel  and 
opium  given,  with  colchicum  and  saline  aperients.  Warm  evaporating 
lotions  to  the  parts  inflamed  are  infinitely  better  than  the  leechings  and 
baths. 

I doubt  the  utility  of  warm  baths  in  acute  inflammation  of  internal 
structures  generally — and  in  many  of  them,  where  they  are  sometimes 
employed,  I am  confident  they  are  detrimental.  It  is  by  no  means  un- 
common to  place  a patient,  labouring  under  acute  hepatitis,  in  a warm 
bath  after  bleeding.  It  is  hazardous  to  employ  this  measure  before  the 
inflammation  is  checked,  and  it  is  unnecessary  afterwards.  The  same 
practice  is  often  pursued,  and  always  with  risk,  in  pneumonia  and  car- 
ditis. Nothing  would  induce  me  to  order  the  warm  bath  in  either  of 
these  complaints.  Inflammations  of  the  peritoneum  and  of  the  urinary 
organs,  including  of  course  the  kidneys,  are  those  in  which  I have  ob- 
served most  benefit,  and  least  danger,  from  the  warm  bath.  But  even 
in  these,  very  copious  bleeding  should  precede  it — the  bowels  being  well 
cleared — and  the  secretions  rendered  as  healthy  as  possible.  There  are 
very  few  other  internal  inflammations,  where  I would  venture  on  the 
warm  bath. 

But  there  is  a long  catalogue  of  chronic  disorders,  to  which  thermal 
medicinal  waters,  both  internally  and  externally  applied,  prove  ex- 
tremely useful — especially  when  aided  by  the  moral  and  physical  circum- 
stances adverted  to  in  this  section,  and  which  exist,  in  greater  or  less 
abundance,  at  most  of  the  watering-places,  in  England  and  on  the  Con- 
tinent. Thermal  waters  act  in  three  principal  ways  on  the  human 
machine  ; — 1st,  through  the  medium  of  sensation,  on  the  nervous  sys- 
tem— 2nd,  through  the  agency  of  temperature,  on  the  vascular  system — 
and  3rd,  by  means  of  their  chemical  contents,  on  the  secretory  and  ex- 
cretory organs.  In  most  chronic  complaints,  and  especially  in  rheuma- 
tism, gout,  cutaneous  deflations,  neuralgia,  dyspepsia,  glandular  swel-  ' 
lings,  and  visceral  obstructions,  there  is  pain,  uneasiness,  or  discomfort 
of  some  kind,  which,  indeed,  constitutes  the  chief  grievance  of  the  indi- 
vidual. It  is  no  unimportant  matter  to  soothe  these  sufferings,  during 


1/4 


K(  ONOMY  OF  II iiALTH. 


tlie  process  employed  for  tlieir  cure.  The  warm  bath  effects  this  pur- 
pose in  an  eminent  degree,  through  its  agency  on  the  sentient  extremi- 
ties of  the  nerves  distributed  over  the  surface  of  the  body.  There  is  an 
extensive  chain  of  sympathies  established  between  the  skin  and  the  in- 
ternal viscera  ; and,  through  the  medium  of  this  channel,  agreeable  sen- 
sations excited  on  the  exterior,  are  very  often  communicated  to  the 
central  organs  and  structures  themselves.  Even  in  this  way,  torpid 
secretions  are  frequently  roused  into  activity  and  improved  in  quality, 
while  the  secretory  apparatus  itself  is  relieved  from  a host  of  painful 
feelings. 

The  agency  of  thermal  waters  on  the  vascular  system  is  of  the  utmost 
importance.  Although  the  temperature  of  the  blood  is  98°  of  Fahrenheit, 
the  surface  of  the  body,  when  not  fevered,  is  very  many  degrees  below 
that  point.  The  warm  bath,  therefore,  when  about  blood-heat,  attracts 
a strong  tide  of  circulation  to  the  surface,  and  thus  liberates  internal 
organs,  for  a time,  from  a congestive  state  of  their  vessels.  This  deter- 
mination to  the  surface  augments  the  cutaneous  exhalation,  and,  by  a 
well-known  reflex  sympathy,  increases  the  secretion  of  the  great  glan- 
dular viscera  of  the  interior — more  especially  the  liver.  Even  the  gentle 
and  alternate  flux  and  reflux  of  the  circulation,  from  the  interior  to  the 
exterior,  and  vice  versa,  produce  very  beneficial  effects,  in  constitutions 
where  the  balance  of  the  circulation  is  broken  in  a variety  of  ways,  and 
where  several  secretions  and  excretions  are  vitiated,  by  stagnation  in 
some  cases,  and  by  inordinate  action  in  others. 

The  chemical  agency  of  mineral  waters  is  not  to  be  overlooked. 
They  contain,  in  all  probability,  many  ingredients  which  we  cannot  de- 
tect— and  many  known  agents,  which  we  cannot  imitate  by  artificial 
combinations.  This  is  proved  by  every  day’s  observation.  Thus,  the 
saline  aperient  materials,  in  mineral  waters,  will  produce  ten  times  more 
effect  than  the  identical  materials,  artificially  dissolved  and  commixed. 
The  same  is  true  with  respect  to  the  chalybeate  springs.  A grain  of 
iron  in  them  is  more  tonic  than  20  grains,  exhibited  according  to  the 
Pharmacopoeia.  It  is  on  these  accounts  that  a course  of  the  saline 
aperient  waters,  followed  up  by  the  light  chalybeates,  as  at  Ems  and 
other  places,  combined  with  the  various  moral  and  physical  auxiliaries 
which  I have  described,  may  and  do  work  wonders  in  many  chronic 
maladies. 

It  is,  however,  in  that  extensive  class  of  human  afflictions  termed 


TRAVELLING  EXERCISE. 


1/5 


nervous,  dyspeptic,  and  hypochondriacal,  that  a journey  to  the  Baths  of 
Pfeifers,  and  other  waters  of  a similar  kind,  offers  strong  temptations, 
and  very  considerable  hopes  of  amendment.  To  hypochondriacs  espe- 
cially I would  recommend  this  tour.  Let  them  get  sea-sick  in  the 
Batavier,  mud  sick  in  the  Maaes,  and  dyke-sick  in  Holland  ; — let  them 
then  ascend  the  Rhine,  amid  all  the  bustle  of  steamers  and  hotels — and 
wind  through  the  romantic  scenery  of  that  noble  river.  They  may  visit 
the  Brunnens  of  Nassau — the  shopocracy  of  Frankfort — the  clean,  dull 
towns  of  Darmstadt  and  Carlshrue — the  old  red  Castle  of  Heidelberg — 
the  fairy  land  of  Baden  Baden — the  prosperous  town  of  Offenburgh — 
the  Black  Forest — the  Falls  of  the  Rhine — the  Lake  of  Wallenstadt, 
presenting  the  most  splendid  lake  scenery  in  Switzerland — and,  lastly, 
the  Baths  of  Pfeffers.  Let  them  be  enjoined  by  their  physician  to 
penetrate  the  gorge  of  the  Tamina,  and  drink  and  perspire  at  the  source 
of  the  waters  in  the  rock,  as  the  sine  qua  non  of  cure — let  them  be  con- 
jured to  mount  the  Galanda,  where  there  is  a specific  air  for  removal 
of  low  spirits — and  then,  if  their  “ blue  devils”  are  not  drowned  in 
the  Pfeffers,  or  blown  away  on  the  Alps — they  had  better  jump  into  the 
Tamina — for  their  case  is  hopeless  ! 

But  if  they  experience,  as  I think  they  will,  the  most  beneficial  con- 
sequences of  the  discipline  I have  recommended,  then  I would  advise 
them  to  prosecute  their  tour  of  health  still  farther.  They  are  now  in 
the  vicinity  of  one  of  the  most  magnificent  of  the  Alpine  passes — the 
Splugen.  In  their  way  thither,  they  thread  the  mazes  of  the  Via 
Mala,  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world — where  they  view,  with  terror, 
the  infant  Rhine  struggling  through  gorges  little  inferior  to  that  of  the 
Tamina — and  over  which  they  pass  three  times,  with  the  river  rolling 
and  roaring  300  feet  beneath  them.*  Descending  from  the  sublime  and 
dreary  heights  of  the  Splugen,  they  behold,  with  delight  and  wonder, 
the  road  winding  down  to  fair  Italy,  like  a serpent  coiled  along  the 
rugged  steeps  of  the  mountain.  Traversing  the  lake  of  Como  in  the 
steamer,  they  may  wander  round  the  romantic  shores  of  Lugano — em- 
bark on  the  Lago  Maggiore,  and  land  on  the  Boromeo  Isles — return  by 
the  Simplon,  St.  Bernard,  or  Cenis,  and  penetrate  through  the  centre  of 


* See  Dr.  Beattie’s  inimitable  delineation  of  the^ViA  Mala,  in  “ Switzerland 
illustrated ” — a wprk  unequalled  for  the  eloquence  of  the  text,  the  beauty  of  the 
plates,  and  the  fidelity  of  the  descriptions. 


176 


ECONOMY  OK  HEALTH. 


Switzerland,  back  to  the  Rhine — or  across  through  dull  France,  to  their 
native  shore — all  in  two  months. 

We  descended  to  the  plains  of  Lombardy,  in  August,  when  the  heat 
was  excessive,  and  when  malaria  issued,  in  abundance,  from  the  fruitful 
soil  of  that  beautiful  country.  We  slept  near  Riva,  one  of  the  most 
pestiferous  spots  in  Italy,  where  malignant  fevers  are  almost  certain  to 
issue  from  even  a single  night’s  repose  there — and  all  without  illness. 
On  the  Lake  of  Lugano,  we  witnessed  one  of  the  most  terrific  hurricanes 
that  ever  swept  along  the  Alps.  It  destroyed  every  pass,  on  the  27th 
of  August,  between  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Tyrol,  carrying  devasta- 
tion and  ruin  along  a line  of  two  or  three  hundred  miles,  burying  whole 
villages  under  the  masses  of  rocks  and  debris  of  pine  forests  torn  down 
from  the  Alps  into  the  valleys,  occasioning  the  loss  of  more  than  a 
thousand  lives,  and  of  many  millions  of  property.  In  crossing  rivers, 
lakes,  mountains,  and  deep  ravines,  we  experienced  all  imaginable  tran- 
sitions, thermometrical,  hygrometrical,  and  barometrical — without  a 
day’s  or  an  hour’s  sickness ! We  returned  to  modern  Babylon,  more 
like  gypsies  than  London  citizens.  We  were  embrowned  in  complexion 
— improved  in  health — and  impressed  with  a conviction  of  the  beneficial 
influence  of  travelling  exercise  in  the  open  air.* 


* It  has  been  remarked  that  this  work  is  very  digressive  and  excursive.  There  is 
no  doubt  of  it.  But  if  such  procedure  be  excusable  in  any  work,  it  may  be  in  the 
“ stream  of  human  life” — which  embraces — 

“ Quicquid  agunt  homines — votum,  timor,  ira,  voluptas.” 

But  it  may  reasonably  be  asked  what  possible  connexion  can  a description  of  the 
Baths  of  Pfeifers  have  with  the  “ stream  of  life?”  The  “Economy  of  Health”  is 
the  main  object  of  the  Essay — and  the  remedial  means  afforded  by  travelling  exercise 
are  of  the  very  first  importance  to  the  wealthier  classes  of  society  in  this  country. 
These  remedial  means  are  much  increased  by  pursuing  those  tracts  which  produce 
most  amusement  and  even  excitement  of  the  mind,  thus  calling  off  the  invalid’s  at- 
tention, as  much  as  possible,  from  a contemplation  of  his  own  morbid  feelings.  There 
is  no  route  on  the  Continent  which  offers  sublimer  scenery,  or  rivets  the  attention 
more  than  that  which  lies  between  Zurich  and  the  village  of  the  Splugen,  including 
Pfeffers  and  the  Via  Mala.  It  was  on  this  account  that  I dwelt  more  on  these 
localities  by  way  of  invitation  to  my  valetudinary  countrymen — few  of  whom  take 
this  route  in  their  travels. 


RELATIVE  POSITION  OF  THE  MASTER- PASSIONS.  1/7 


EIGHTH  SEPTENMIAD. 

[49  to  56  years.'] 

The  idea  of  dividing  human  life  into  septenary  periods,  is  as  old  as  Galen, 
or  nearly  so — and  both  Shakespeare  and  Hoffman  supported  the  same 
idea.  It  was  only  while  this  edition,  however,  was  passing  through  the 
press,  that  I met  with  a work  by  Dr.  Jameson,  published  about  thirty 
years  ago,  in  which  there  is  a most  striking  coincidence  between  that 
gentleman  and  myself,  in  respect  to  these  septenary  periods,  as  the  fol- 
lowing extract  will  shew. 

“ But  the  septennial  evolutions  of  the  machine,  are  still  more  re- 
markable than  any  changes  upon  septenary  days  and  months,  for  there 
does  not  occur  seven  successive  years  in  the  life  of  man,  without  some 
evident  alteration  of  constitution,  which  will  become  apparent  in  the 
course  of  the  present  narrative.  We  may,  however,  in  the  mean  time, 
instance  the  renewal  of  the  teeth  at  the  seventh  year,  the  arrival  of 
puberty  at  twice  seven,  full  stature  at  three  times  seven,  the  perfection 
of  growth  at  four  times  seven,  the  greatest  vigour  of  body  and  mind  at 
five  times  seven,  the  commencement  of  partial  decay  at  six  times  seven, 
general  decay,  and  decrease  of  energy  at  seven  times  seven,  the  arrival  of 
old  age  at  eight  times  seven,  and  the  grand  climacteric  of  the  ancients  at 
nine  times  seven,  which  the  author  has  always  observed  to  come  nearer 
the  extent  of  life,  enjoyed  by  persons  who  have  always  lived  in  Lon- 
don, than  any  other  term  that  could  be  chosen  for  general  calculation.” 

Dr.  Jameson  did  not,  however,  adopt  this  septenary  division,  but 
parcelled  out  the  stream  of  human  existence  into  four  periods — namely 
— infancy  from  birth  to  the  age  of  14 — youth,  from  14  to  28 — manhood 
from  28  to  56 — and  old  age  from  56  to  the  end  of  the  term.  Hoffman’s 
arrangement  was — infantia  from  birth  to  7 — pueritia  from  7 to  14 — 
adolescentia  from  14  to  21 — -juventus,  from  21  to  35 — virilis  (etas  from 
35  to  49 — senectus  from  49  to  63 — decrepitas  (etas,  from  63  to  the  end 
of  life.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  cardinal  points  of  Dr.  Jameson’s  cal- 
culations are  the  same  as  my  own.  He  makes  the  greatest  vigour  of 
mind  and  body  to  take  place  at  35 — and  declination  from  the  meridian 
to  commence  at  42  years.  Dr.  Jameson,  however,  is  inclined  to  think 
that  this  declination  is  not  very  conspicuous  till  the  age  of  57  years. 


a a 


1/8 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


“ It  might  be  expected,  that  the  history  of  old  age  would  commence 
with  the  incipient  part  of  man’s  decay,  which  is  felt  in  some  of  the 
organs  soon  after  forty-five,  but  it  would  be  considered  as  a perversion 
of  language  in  these  days,  to  call  men  old  at  the  time  the  body  begins 
to  retrograde,  in  a manner  known  only  to  anatomists.  The  author  is, 
therefore,  inclined  to  designate  the  57th  year,  when  the  failure  becomes 
generally  obvious  over  the  system,  as  the  beginning  of  old  age,  and,  the 
81st  year,  as  the  commencement  of  the  age  of  decrepitude,  which  ex- 
tends to  any  subsequent  number  of  years,  to  which  the  life  of  man  may 
be  extended.” 

But  be  this  as  it  may,  the  first  anniversary  of  the  Eighth  Septenniad 
launches  us  beyond  the  first — and,  in  all  human  probability,  into  the 
last  half  century  of  human  existence ! — Many  commence  the  second  half 
of  the  century ; but  not  one  in  fifty  thousand  complete  it.*  When, 
however,  we  survey  the  great  chain  of  animated  beings  around  us,  from 
the  polypus  to  man,  we  have  no  just  reason  to  complain  of  the  shortness 
of  human  life.  A few  animals,  indeed,  as  the  eagle  and  the  elephant, 
live  longer  than  we  do.  But  the  immense  majority,  enjoy  an  infinitely 
shorter  range  of  light  on  this  little  globe.  And  when  we  look  back  from 
this  advanced  stage  of  our  path,  and  contemplate  the  difficulties  and  the 
sufferings  which  we  have  experienced  on  the  road — when  we  reflect,  that 
those  which  we  have  yet  to  encounter,  are  not  likely  to  be  few,  we  ought 
not  to  repine  that  the  remainder  of  the  journey  is  comparatively  short, 
and  that  a peaceful  asylum  is  in  view,  where  a narrow  undisputed  man- 
sion will  limit  our  ambition,  and  effectually  exclude  the  passions,  the 
cares,  and  the  afflictions  of  this  life.  Yet,  even  in  this  eighth  Septen- 
niad, our  hopes,  anxieties,  and  struggles  are  more  sanguine,  intense,  and 
persevering,  than  in  any  previous  epoch  of  our  sojourn  here  below  ! 

In  this  Septenniad,  the  three  master-passions,  love,  ambition,  and 
avarice,  shew  further  changes  of  relative  position,  not  unworthy  of 
attention.  Love  and  ambition  had  a hard  struggle  for  precedency,  in 
the  seventh  Septenniad — and  avarice  was  clearly  in  the  minority.  In 
the  present  epoch,  ambition  comes  unequivocally  to  the  head  of  the 


* By  some  statistical  writers  the  centenarians  are  represented  as  much  more 
numerous ; hut  their  data  are  very  doubtful,  and  much  deception  is  practised  by 
people  after  ninety  years  of  age.  They  are  then  prone  to  exaggerate  their  length  of 
life,  instead  of  concealing  their  years. 


PAINFUL  REMINISCENCES.  ]/9 

list,  and  avarice,  steadily  rising,  now  disputes  the  claim  of  priority  with 
love — and,  it  is  to  be  feared,  often  stands  second  ! 

I have  already  remarked  that  the  grand  climacteric  of  woman — “ the 
turn  of  life” — takes  place  in  the  latter  years  of  the  seventh  Septenniad. 
If  she  escape  the  perils  of  that  crisis  (and  they  are  not  few),  the  stream 
of  her  physical  existence  is  likely  to  run  clear  and  placid  till  the  great 
ocean  of  eternity  is  approached.  There  is  not,  at  this  period,  any  cor- 
responding crisis  in  the  life  of  man.  His  critical  or  grand  climacteric 
is  at  the  advanced  age  of  sixty-tiiree.  But,  in  both  sexes,  the  eighth 
Septenniad  brings  with  it  a very  marked  increase  of  all  the  physical  as 
well  as  intellectual  changes,  which  the  hand  of  Time  is  now  working  on 
the  downward  course  of  human  existence.  If,  at  this  period,  we  meet 
with  a friend  or  acquaintance,  whom  we  have  not  seen  for  twenty  years, 
the  probability  is,  that  we  will  not  recognize  the  features  of  him  or  her, 
however  familiar  they  may  have  been  to  our  eyes  for  twenty  years  pre- 
viously to  the  separation ! Each  of  the  parties  is  shocked — almost 
horrified — at  the  change  in  the  other — and  each  congratulates  himself, 
by  a kind  of  involuntary  impulse,  on  having  experienced  less  of  the  wear 
and  tear  of  time,  than  his  old  friend  ! He  or  she,  who  has  daily  con- 
templated the  reflected  image  in  the  faithful  mirror,  for  a quarter  of  a 
century,  cannot  detect  the  gradual,  and  almost  imperceptible  inroads  of 
time  on  the  eye  and  the  countenance  generally,  till  the  startling  portrait 
of  the  friend,  so  changed,  so  metamorphosed,  as  not  to  be  recognized 
but  by  collateral  proofs  of  identity,  suddenly  arrests  the  attention,  and, 
in  despite  of  self-love  and  personal  vanity,  conveys  a thrilling  conviction 
that  years  have  not  rolled  over  his  own  head,  without  leaving  their 
melancholy  impress ! 

Poets  and  novelists  have  drawn  glowing  portraits  of  “ the  pleasures 
of  memory  j”  but  he  or  she  who  revisits  old  friends  and  youth-hallowed 
localities,  after  a lapse  of  twenty  or  thirty  years,  will  find  that  dolorous 
feelings  predominate  over  youthful  reminiscences.  I can  tell  the  philo- 
sopher, the  philanthropist,  and  the  moralist,  that  these  revisitations  will 
cause  more  pain  than  pleasure — especially  if  made  during  or  after  the 
seventh  Septenniad.  At  an  earlier  period  of  life,  the  lapse  of  seven  or 
ten  years  may  enhance  the  pleasures  of  memory,  the  review  of  juvenile 
scenes,  and  the  re-union  of  old  friendships  ; but,  in  advanced  stages  of 
existence,  these  pleasures  are  only  in  imagination,  and  are  there  alone 
enjoyed ! In  such  cases,  epistolatory  correspondence  is  perhaps  pre- 
ferable to  a renewal  of  personal  acquaintance.  We  are  told  that 


180 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


“ Heaven  first  taught  letters  for  some  wretch’s  aid, 

Some  banish’d  lover,  or  some  captive  maid” — 

but  they  furnish  solace  and  even  pleasure  to  old  and  distant  friends, 
who,  through  them,  can  recall  the  scenes  of  by-gone  days,  and  revive 
impressions  that  were  made — 

When  life  itself  was  new, 

And  the  heart  promis’d  what  the  fancy  drew — 

without  the  melancholy  drawback  of  viewing,  in  the  shattered  fabric  of 
our  friend,  those  ravages  which  time  has  made,  though  the  mirror  has 
softened  them,  in  ourselves ! I am  here  induced  to  make  a short  dis- 
quisition on — 

MEMORY. 

The  phrenologists  do  not  allot  any  particular  organ  or  locality  for 
memory.  “ Each  organ  (say  they)  enables  the  mind  to  recall  the  im- 
pressions which  it  served  at  first  to  receive.”  Thus  the  organs  of  tune 
and  form  will  recall  notes  and  figures.  Mr.  Coombe  remarks,  however, 
that  “ there  appears  to  be  a quality  of  brain,  which  gives  retention  to 
memory,  so  that  one  individual  retains  impressions  much  longer  than 
another,  although  their  combination  of  organs  be  the  same.  The  cause 
of  this  is  unknown.”  But  whatever  be  the  nature  or  seat  of  memory, 
there  is  no  power  of  the  mind  which  is  more  complained  of,  as  short  in 
youth,  treacherous  in  manhood,  and  impotent  in  age  ! It  appears,  in- 
deed, to  be  the  first  faculty  to  fail  and  ultimately  decay.  It  is  the  power 
of  reproducing  images  impressed  on  the  sensorial  tablet  through  the 
medium  of  the  senses  first,  and  reflection  afterwards.  It  is  therefore 
the  child  of  attention — and  where  the  parent  is  indolent,  the  progeny 
will,  in  this  case,  be  indigent.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  where  the 
memory  is  treacherous,  the  observation  has  been  superficial,  perception 
faint,  and  reflection  null  or  vague.  The  senses  furnish,  and  memory 
preserves,  the  whole  materiel  of  our  knowledge — while  imagination  and 
reflection  are  merely  the  architects  that  convert  the  rough  materials  into 
various  forms  afterwards.  It  is  fortunate  that  memory  is  faithful  and 
retentive  during  that  period  of  life  in  which  the  chief  stock  of  knowledge 
is  laid  up.  The  faculty  may  afterwards  fail ; but  the  understanding 
has  been  furnished  with  proper  materials  for  carrying  on  the  ordinary 
concerns  of  life.  It  rarely  happens  that  the  substance  of  early  know- 
ledge is  ever  lost — though  its  sources,  its  minutiae,  and  its  technicalities 
lapse  from  the  tablet  of  the  memory.  The  impressions  of  external  ob- 


MEMORY. 


181 


jects  (and  even  reflections),  on  the  youthful  mind,  are  graven  in  brass 
— those  of  our  latter  years  are  written  in  sand — or  rather  in  water  ! 
They  fade  almost  immediately. 

Memory  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  operations  of  mind  or  matter. 
We  can  form  some  faint  idea  of  the  impression  which  an  object — say  a 
ruin — makes  on  the  mind  through  the  medium  of  the  eye  ; — but  how 
memory  can  fix  it  there — or,  at  all  events,  reproduce  it,  voluntarily  or 
involuntarily,  twenty  or  thirty  years  afterwards,  is  most  mysterious ! 
Now  all  anatomists  agree  that  the  whole  structure  of  the  brain  is  re- 
peatedly renewed  in  the  course  of  life — there  being  no  particle  of  the 
same  organ  in  manhood  which  had  existed  in  youth.  Yet  an  image 
impressed  on  the  sensorium  in  early  life,  is  often  recalled  in  age,  after 
the  whole  material  tablet  on  which  it  was  engraved,  has  been  removed. 
This  would  seem  to  indicate  that  memory  is  a function  connected  with 
something  beyond  the  boundary  of  matter.  This,  how'ever,  like  every 
faculty  or  function  of  mind,  is  manifested  through  the  instrumentality 
of  matter.  Although  the  brain  cannot  think,  per  se,  neither  can  the 
mind  render  thought  obvious  without  the  brain — and  so  of  memory. 
The  brain  cannot  recall  past  impressions  without  mind,  nor  can  the  mind 
retain  them  without  the  material  organ.  The  memory  decays  with  the 
body,  or  is  temporarily  deranged  by  the  disorders  of  its  material  seat, 
the  brain,  in  compliance  with  the  laws  that  affect  all  the  other  mental 
faculties.  It  is  greatly  impaired  by  intemperance  in  spirituous  liquors, 
the  drunkard  often  becoming  nearly  bereft  of  memory  at  the  age  of  forty 
or  fifty.  When  a man  has  taken  a bottle  of  wine,  even  when  in  perfect 
health,  his  memory  becomes  treacherous  on  subjects  and  names  which 
he  distinctly  recollects  when  he  is  sober  next  day.  This  shews  that  the 
excitement  of  wine,  while  it  exalts  the  imagination,  impairs  the  memory 
— and,  I need  hardly  say,  clouds  the  judgment. 

There  is  no  artificial  means  of  recruiting  the  memory,  but  by  keeping 
the  brain  as  free  as  possible  from  excitement — especially  of  spirituous 
potations.  But,  as  I said  before,  Attention  is  the  parent  of  Memory, 
and  one  half  of  our  complaints  respecting  weak  memory  originates  in 
inattention.  We  neglect  to  observe — and  we  say  we  forget.  The 
want  of  laudable  ctiriosity  is  a great  source  of  weak  impressions — and, 
consequently,  of  defective  memory.  The  first  time  I crossed  the  Tyber, 
in  company  with  an  English  country-gentleman,  I was  bored  with  an 
account  of  horses  and  horse-racing.  After  passing  the  Milvian  bridge, 


182 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


I asked  him  what  river  that  was  that  looked  so  muddy  and  yellow’. 
“ River ! said  he,  I saw  no  river.”  I pointed  out  the  turbid  stream 
behind  us,  and  told  him  it  was  the  celebrated  Tyber.  He  acknowdedged 
that  he  had  passed  it  unobserved.  Now  any  particulars  that  escaped 
this  gentleman’s  observation  would  assuredly  be  put  down  to  the  account 
of  a treacherous  memory.  I once  visited  Staffa,  in  company  writh  an 
elderly  gentleman  who  had  returned  from  India  with  a good  fortune. 
He  sat  down  on  a block  of  basalt,  at  the  entrance  of  Fingal’s  Cave, 
while  the  rest  of  the  company  were  examining  the  interior  of  this 
“ cathedral  built  by  Nature.”  On  returning  to  the  steamer,  he  re- 
marked that  he  had  been  a great  fool  for  coming  so  far,  and  getting 
sea-sick,  “ to  see  a huge  heap  of  great  stones.”  On  the  top  of  Ben 
Cruachan,  afterwards,  he  ate  a hearty  luncheon,  while  I was  contem- 
plating the  magnificent  panorama,  the  scenery  of  which  attracted  not 
his  attention.  How  could  Staffa  or  Ben  Cruachan  remain  in  the  me- 
mory, when  the  images  were  so  faintly  impressed  on  the  sensorium  ? 

We  are  told  by  metaphysicians  that  memory  is  not  entirely  under  the 
command  of  the  will — that  we  cannot  always  recollect  when  we  please 
— nor  banish  recollections  when  they  arise,  by  an  act  of  volition.  They 
are  greatly  mistaken.  We  can  instantly  forget  an  old  friend  or  intimate 
acquaintance,  if  he  has  happened  to  fall  into  misfortunes  and  poverty — 
and  recall  him  as  suddenly  to  mind,  when  he  emerges  into  opulence  or 
power.  Our  memory  is  singularly  tenacious  of  any  injury  we  have  re- 
ceived from  a neighbour — and  equally  treacherous  as  to  favours  con- 
ferred on  us  by  a friend  who  is  now  in  need.  The  effects  of  avocations 
and  offices  on  the  memory  is  often  remarkable.  Ministers  and  heads  of 
departments,  civil,  military,  and  naval,  have,  ex  officio,  most  treacherous 
memories  as  to  promises  made  to  aspirants  for  places,  pensions,  and 
promotions.  Parents  are  apt  to  forget  that  they  ever  were  young — and 
children  that  they  are  ever  to  be  old.  Matrimony  sometimes  affects  the 
memory  in  a peculiar  and  partial  manner.  We  often  find  the  husband 
forget  the  words  “ cherish  and  support,” — while  the  wife  loses  recol- 
lection of  the  words  “ honour  and  obey.”  I never  knew  a lady  forget 
the  exact  amount  of  her  pin-money.  The  sight  of  beauty  often  causes 
forgetfulness  of  other  qualities,  in  the  male  spectator. 

“ If  to  her  lot  some  female  errors  fall. 

Look  in  her  face,  and  you’ll  forget  them  all.” 

In  the  female  spectator,  however,  the  sight  of  beauty  has  often  a 


MKMORY. 


183 


directly  contrary  effect.  I knew  a lady  who  complained  bitterly  of  her 
memory,  and  declared  her  belief  that  she  would  soon  forget  her  own 
name.  Yet  she  remembered  not  only  the  names,  but  the  ages  of  all 
her  female  friends — especially  if  they  were -on  the  wrong  side  of  thirty. 
Tenacity  and  treachery  of  memory  run  very  much  in  families.  The 
nobleman  seldom  forgets  his  high  ancestral  pedigree — the  plebeian 
rarely  remembers  the  names  or  professions  of  his  forefathers.  That 
memory  and  forgetfulness  are  acts  of  volition,  I will  give  the  testimony 
of  Blackstone — who  was  surely  a judge.  He  charges  the  jury  (and  the 
example  is  followed  by  all  judges  since  his  days)  to  forget  everything 
they  may  have  seen,  heard,  or  felt,  prior  to  the  trial,  and  to  remember 
nothing  but  what  comes  out  during  the  evidence  in  court.  Surely  grave 
and  learned  men  on  the  Bench  would  not  enjoin  that  which  is  incom- 
patible with  human  powers — ergo,  we  can  remember  and  forget,  at 
pleasure. 

But  deficiency  of  memory,  which  most  people  complain  of,  as  a great 
misfortune,  ought  really,  according  to  Pope,  to  be  regarded  as  a special 
advantage. 

“ Thus  in  the  soul  where  memory  prevails, 

The  solid  power  of  understanding  fails : — 

Where  beams  of  bright  imagination  play, 

The  memory’s  soft  figures  melt  away.” 

This  doctrine  of  Pope,  or  rather  of  Bolinbroke,  is  somewhat  ques- 
tionable as  to  the  soundness  of  its  philosophy.  It  is  difficult  to  con- 
ceive how  the  understanding  can  be  injured  by  a retentive  memory — 
or  how  indeed  it  can  be  built  up  without  this  necessary  faculty.  If  the 
bricks  and  blocks  of  marble  begin  to  crumble  down  as  soon  at  they  are 
collected,  the  edifice  will  hardly  swell  into  the  majestic  temple.  And 
so  it  is  with  facts  and  knowledge  of  every  kind.  Unless  they  are  re- 
tained in  the  memory  to  be  worked  up  by  reflection,  the  understanding 
will  be  defective.  And  yet  there  is  some  truth  in  the  above  dogma. 
Thus,  a man  who  has  a very  retentive  memory,  employs  himself  more 
in  storing  up  the  facts,  observations,  and  reasonings  of  others,  than  in 
digesting  them  in  his  own  mind  and  drawing  conclusions  for  himself. 
His  memory  is  an  immense  granary,  from  which  he  can  draw  at  plea- 
sure, and  repeat  by  rote  ; securing  to  himself  the  credit  of  learning 
among  all  his  auditors — and  talent  amongst  a majority  of  them.  But 
this  strength  of  memory,  w’here  it  does  not  accompany  or  lead  to  indo- 
lence of  reflection,  proves  the  soundest  basis  for  the  understanding  and 


184 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


judgment.  As  for  imagination,  it  can  do  nothing  without  memory. 
The  greatest  poetical  genius  that  ever  existed,  can  only  combine,  mo- 
dify, or  exaggerate  images  and  facts  impressed  on  the  mind  through  the 
medium  of  the  senses.  Shakespeare  may  have  “ exhausted  worlds 
but  I deny  that  he  “ imagined  new.”  I defy  his  warmest  admirers  to 
produce  a single  offspring  of  his  imagination  that  is  not  a type  or  com- 
bination of  sensible  objects  presented  to  his  and  to  every  man’s  mind 
in  this  our  own  globe.  Take,  for  instance,  his  Caliban,  which  is  one  of 
the  best  specimens  of  his  imagination.  No  one,  of  course,  ever  saw  such 
a creature.  But  there  is  not  a single  part,  or  particle  of  his  composition, 
from  his  hide  to  his  hoof,  which  has  not  its  representative  in  nature.  He 
merely  combined  parts  which  are  separated  and  dispersed  through  other 
animals.  Thus  we  may  draw  or  imagine  a figure  with  the  head  of  a 
cock,  the  neck  of  a horse,  the  body  of  a lion,  and  the  legs  of  an  ele- 
phant. But  is  there  any  new  creation  here  ? None.  The  fancy  com - 
bines  heterogeneous  parts  already  known — and  then  we  have  a wonderful 
effort  of  genius — a splendid  creature  of  the  imagination — a Caliban. 
Now  the  greater  the  number  of  facts  and  observations  that  have  been 
accumulated,  the  more  retentively  they  have  been  kept  in  the  memory , 
and  the  more  assiduously  they  have  been  worked  up  by  reflection — the 
more  powerful  will  be  the  imagination  in  combining  in  one  figure  a 
variety  of  disjointed  parts  that  are  never  seen  as  a whole  in  Nature. 
And  this  is  one  of  the  grand  attributes  of  our  immortal  Bard.  It  ex- 
tends to  the  morale  as  well  as  to  the  physique.  The  sentiments  of 
Caliban  and  Prospero — of  Ariel  and  Miranda,  were  suggested  by  obser- 
vation and  reflection,  just  as  much  as  their  figures  and  faces.  It  is  not 
therefore  true  that  Shakespeare  or  the  poet  he  describes,  has  been  able 

to  give  to  airy  nothing 

A local  habitation  and  a name. 

If  wTe  look  to  Homer,  we  find  that  his  heroes  are  only  men — and  his  gods 
and  goddesses  but  mortals  with  wings.  He  can  cloathe  Jupiter  himself 
only  with  thunder  and  lightning  for  his  celestial  weapons — and  Apollo 
is  obliged  to  use  bows  and  arrows.  If  he  had  assigned  his  warriors, 
at  the  siege  of  Troy,  either  pistols  or  cannon,  wTe  might  have  given  him 
credit  for  creating  some  image  or  figure,  of  which  he  had  neither  heard 
nor  seen  any  thing.  But  he  has  done  nothing  of  the  kind — for  the  best 
of  all  reasons.  Milton,  indeed,  has  introduced  artillery  into  Heaven  ; 
but,  unfortunately  for  his  creative  genius,  it  was  previously  introduced 


MEMORY. 


1 So 


on  earth.  Satan  could  not  portray  his  mother,  Sin,  in  any  but  human 
shape  distorted. 

“ Whence  and  what  art  thou  execrable  shape  ?” 

And  so  the  sculptor,  who  cliisselled  the  Medicean  Venus,  could  only 
select  the  best  parts  and  features  from  other  beauties,  and  combine  them 
in  one.  Shakespeare  reversed  the  plan  when  he  drew  the  portrait  of 
Caliban. 

The  moral  or  useful  deduction  which  we  are  to  draw  from  such  dis- 
quisition is  this — the  more  facts  we  collect — the  more  we  reflect  on  these 
facts — and  the  more  tenacious  the  memory  is,  both  of  the  facts  and  re- 
flections— the  better  will  be  the  “ understanding” — and  the  brighter 
will  be  the  “ imagination.”  Let  youthful  poets  ponder  on  this,  and 
not  flatter  themselves  that  the  fertility  of  their  imagination  will  com- 
pensate for  careful  observation,  mature  reflection,  and  retentive  memory. 
If  they  do,  they  will  find  themselves  woefully  mistaken. 

But  although  we  often  injure  the  memory — although  we  often  blame 
it  when  we  ought  to  blame  our  inattention — and,  what  is  worse,  although 
the  memory  is  amongst  the  first  of  the  mental  faculties  to  fail — yet  there 
is  no  doubt  that  mens’  memories  are  as  various  as  their  abilities  or  com- 
plexions, namely,  that  some  are  naturally  retentive — others  irretentive, 
dependent  on  some  unknown  quality  of  the  brain  itself.  On  this  account 
we  are  led  to  ask,  can  the  memory  be  improved  or  fortified  ? Un- 
doubtedly it  can.  Every  faculty  of  the  mind,  as  well  as  the  body  itself, 
maybe  strengthened  by  exercise,  and  weakened  by  idleness.  The  surest 
method  of  improving  the  memory  is  by  early  and  regular  cultivation  of 
the  attention.  The  latter,  as  I before  observed,  is  the  parent  of  the 
former — and  it  is  in  the  power  of  every  individual  to  employ  it.  But 
the  most  assiduous  attention  will  be  comparatively  inefficient,  without 
the  habit  of  reflection  on  the  objects  presented  to  the  senses.  Reflection 
arranges  the  materials  in  the  mind,  and  tends  to  rivet  them  in  the 
memory.  Nine-tenths  of  the  differences  which  we  find  in  the  memo- 
ries of  men,  are  attributable  to  the  different  degrees  of  attention  which 
they  pay  to  surrounding  objects  and  passing  events — and  also  to  their 
habits  of  reflection  or  non-reflection  afterwards.  Thus,  two  men  sail  up 
the  Rhine  in  the  steamer.  One  of  them  directs  minute  attention  to  every 
old  ruin,  precipice,  rock,  declivity,  village  or  vineyard  on  the  romantic 
banks  of  the  stream.  The  other  spends  half  the  time  in  chatting  to  his 

b b 


18<> 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


neighbours,  casting  a careless  look  occasionally  at  the  moving  panorama, 
without  making  any  reflections  whatever  on  the  mouldering  monuments 
of  other  times  that  meet  the  eye  at  every  sinuosity  of  the  river,  or  on 
the  history  or  legends  connected  with  them.  Whose  memory,  of  these 
two  individuals,  admitting  that  they  were  naturally  equal  in  compass, 
will  remain  most  charged  with  the  romantic  scenery  of  the  Rhine  ? I 
need  not  answer  this  question — it  is  already  answered  in  every  reader’s 
mind.  I may  add  that,  after  careful  attention  to,  and  subsequent  re- 
flection on,  surrounding  objects,  although  the  names  and  minute  circum- 
stances may  fade  from  the  memory,  in  the  course  of  time,  the  great 
features  will  always  rise  at  will  and  in  vivid  colours  on  the  mind’s  eye. 
I know  this  from  personal  and  general  experience.  It  is  now  ten  years 
since  I first  crossed  the  Simplon — and  never  since — yet  every  tourniquet 
and  gallery — every  frowning  precipice  and  yawning  gulf — every  chilling 
glacier  and  dripping  grotto — every  pine-capt  cliff  and  roaring  torrent — 
are  as  fresh  in  the  mental  mirror  as  when  first  impressed  on  the  tablet 
of  my  memory — which  is  by  no  means  a retentive  one.*  It  is  all  owing 
to  attention  and  reflection.  These  I strongly  recommend  to  the 
reader — especially  before  the  period  arrives  when  the  memory  begins 
naturally  to  decay. 

There  are  some  admonitions  that  are  applicable  to  the  seventh,  but 
still  more  to  the  eighth  Septenniad.  In  these  periods,  the  moral  as  well 
as  the  physical  aptitudes  to  receive  and  to  retain  impressions  are  dimi- 
nished, and  our  habits  are  firmly  rooted.  Hence  the  danger  of  embark- 
ing in  any  new  pursuit,  avocation,  or  enterprize,  to  which  ambition 
(now  in  the  ascendant)  is  constantly  prompting  mankind.  Every  avo- 
cation or  pursuit  requires  a certain  amount  of  elementary  knowledge, 
which  can  only  be  properly  acquired  in  youth;  when  the  susceptibilities 
are  keen,  and  the  memory  retentive.  It  is  not,  therefore,  in  middle 
age,  that  we  are  to  expend  our  time  and  energies  in  such  acquirements — 
but  rather  to  work  upon  the  materials  of  knowledge  previously  stocked 
up.  Thus  we  see  men  labouring  at  the  study  of  new  languages  after 
the  age  of  forty — or  embarking  in  entirely  new  professions  or  vocations. 
Nothing  can  be  more  injudicious — for  failure  is  almost  the  invariable 


* I made  no  memorandum  or  note  during  the  transit,  and  described  this  celebrated 
pass  entirely  from  memory,  during  an  hour  or  two  at  the  Hotel  of  Domo  d'Ossolo 
— See  “ Change  of  Air,”  4th  Ed. 


BANGER  OF  CHANGING  HABITS  AND  PURSUITS.  18/ 


result.  In  the  middle  ages,  our  judgment  is  matured,  and  we  should 
then  mould  and  direct  the  materials  in  our  possession,  rather  than  accu- 
mulate fresh  stores. 

This  principle  applies  to  another  subject  of  no  small  interest — the 
contracting  matrimonial  alliances  after  the  seventh  Septenniad.  Old 
maids,  old  bachelors,  old  widows,  and  old  widowers — a formidable  pha- 
lanx ! — will,  no  doubt,  declare  war  against  me,  on  account  of  the  senti- 
ments which  I am  going  to  deliver.  None  of  them  will  follow  my 
advice  (if  they  can  help  it) — few  of  them  will  approve  my  counsel — but 
many  of  them  will  acknowledge, ’when  too  late,  the  truth  of  my  opinions! 
These  opinions  are  not  deduced  from  inadequate  data,  nor  are  they 
grounded  on  superficial  observation.  They  are  the  result  of  mature 
reflection,  and  they  can  hardly  be  suspected  of  any  personal  motive  or 
misanthropic  impulse.  They  may  be  erroneous  ; but  they  are,  at  least, 
conscientious. 

When  matrimonial  alliances  are  formed  after  the  seventh  Septenniad, 
they  are  generally  effected  under  circumstances  of  great  disparity  in  age. 
An  elderly  gentleman  marries  a young  wife — or  a matronly  lady  espouses 
a youthful  husband.  In  both  cases,  money  is  the  usual  equipoise  thrown 
into  the  scale  to  adjust  the  balance  of  years — the  counterfort  (as  an 
engineer  would  say)  to  prop  up  the  decline  of  life.  But  gold  remains 
the  same,  or  grows  lighter,  while  infirmities  accumulate.  The  balance 
is  soon  broken,  and  the  inequilibrium  becomes  every  day  more  glaring,  till 
the  scales  are  in  the  position  of  the  Zenith  and  the  Nadir  ! The  false 
step  is  perceived  when  it  cannot  be  retraced — and  disappointment,  if  not 
misery,  is  the  result ! 

That  there  are  exceptions  to  this  rule,  I do  not  deny — but  that  they 
are  more  frequently  apparent  than  real,  I am  inclined  to  suspect.  It 
will  clearly  be  the  interest  and  object  of  both  contracting  parties  to  con- 
ceal the  disappointment  and  portray  the  blessings  of  the  alliance. 
When  a man  finds  that  he  has  purchased  a bad  horse,  he  is  unusually 
eloquent  in  his  praises  of  the  animal.  It  is  not  impossible  that  animals, 
of  a higher  order,  in  the  scale  of  creation,  than  even  the  horse,  have 
sometimes  received  unmerited  eulogy.  Be  this  as  it  may,  I am  con- 
vinced, from  no  narrow  range  of  observation,  that  great  disparity  in 
years  can  rarely  be  compensated  by  disparity  in  wealth  or  in  rank.  I 
base  my  conclusions  on  some  knowledge  of  human  nature,  namely,  a 
knowledge  of  the  moral  and  physical  constitution  of  man — and  woman 


188 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


too — in  our  present  state  of  existence.  Those  who  expect  that  the 
general  laws  of  Nature  may  bend  to  accommodate  particular  circum- 
stances and  individual  wishes,  will  find,  when  too  late,  that  the  fore- 
going exposition  is  a truth — perhaps  unpalatable,  but  certainly  salutary. 

It  is  in  the  eighth  Septenniad  that  certain  mementos,  which  had 
faintly  announced  themselves  previously,  now  obtrude  their  unwelcome 
presence  so  unequivocally,  as  not  to  be  mistaken  or  overlooked.  These 
are  the  changes  which  years  effect  in  the  hair,  the  eyes,  the  teeth,  the 
complexion,  the  features,  and  many  other  organs  and  functions  in  the 
human  frame.  It  becomes  too  manifest  at  this  period,  that  fifty  Winters 
did  not  roll  over  our  heads,  without  leaving  indelible  marks  of  wear 
and  tear  ! It  is  now  but  too  evident  that  the  tenement  we  inhabit, 
though  constructed  with  infinite  skill,  is  yet  but  one  of  clay — that  it  is 
failing  in  its  whole  fabric — that,  though  it  may  be  propt  up  for  a time, 
it  is  insusceptible  of  thorough  repair — in  fine,  that  the  mansion  must  be 
vacated  at  the  expiration  of  the  lease,  and  the  materials  left  to  moulder 
into  the  dust  from  which  they  originally  sprung ! It  is  about  this  time, 
indeed,  that  the  conviction  comes  home  to  the  mind  of  the  tenant,  that 
the  very  same  implements  and  mechanism  which  raised  the  proud  edi- 
fice to  its  highest  elevation,  are  now  gradually,  but  perceptibly,  dilapi- 
dating the  walls  and  undermining  the  foundation ! 

“ Nascentes  morimur,  finisque  ab  origine  pendet.” 

One  might  expect  that,  with  all  these  unequivocal  warnings,  man  (the 
only  animal  on  this  globe  who  recognizes  the  ebb  of  life,  and  is  aware 
that  it  ends  in  death)  would  slacken  his  pace  in  the  career  of  ambition, 
and  relax  his  grasp  in  the  pursuit  of  wealth.  Yet  he  does  nothing  of  the 
kind ! On  the  contrary,  the  lust  of  power  and  the  love  of  gold  (espe- 
cially the  latter)  augment  rather  than  decrease  as  the  goal  is  approached 
where  both  objects  must  be  abandoned  for  ever ! The  fact  is,  that  these 
propensities  are  instincts  implanted  inhuman  nature,  over  which  Reason 
has  but  partial  control.  Religion  can  do  more  ; but  neither  of  these 
can  eradicate  an  instinct,  which  is  a kind  of  moral  appetite,  as  naturally 
appertaining  to  mind,  as  hunger  or  thirst  to  the  body.  The  moral  ap- 
petites are  not  the  less  wisely  given,  because,  like  the  physical,  they  are 
much  abused.  Were  it  not  for  these  powerful  instinctive  impulses,  man, 
as  soon  as  he  saw  that  his  days  were  necessarily  bounded  within  a very 
narrow  span,  would  abandon  all  mental  exertion,  and  limit  his  labours  to 
the  mere  gratification  of  his  corporeal  senses . But  the  Omniscient  Creator 


INSTINCTIVE  MORAL  IMPULSES. 


189 


foresaw  this  evil,  and  effectually  obviated  it,  by  irresistible  moral  in- 
stincts. It  is  for  Religion,  Morality,  Reason,  and  Philosophy,  to  res- 
train these  instinctive  impulses,  as  much  as  possible,  within  salutary 
bounds — it  is  for  the  visionary  enthusiast  to  denounce  them  as  wicked 
propensities  infused  into  the  human  mind  by  the  Father  of  Evil,  and 
to  be  extinguished  by  austerity  or  fanaticism.* 

But  although  the  warnings  and  admonitions  abovementioned,  are  not 
sufficient  to  wean  the  mind  of  man  from  the  affairs  of  this  world,  and  to 
direct  it  to  the  concerns  of  another,  they  are  by  no  means  passed  over 
unnoticed.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  viewed  with  the  utmost  solicitude. 
The  three  kingdoms  of  Nature,  and  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe,  are 
ransacked  in  search  of  any  and  every  material  that  may  repair,  palliate, 
or  conceal,  the  ravages  of  time  or  disease  on  the  corporeal  fabric.  If  an 
accurate  estimate  of  the  number  of  human  beings  employed  in  these 
various  avocations,  could  be  formed,  it  would  astonish  the  world.  It 
might  not,  probably,  be  exceeding  the  truth,  if  it  were  calculated  that,  in 
the  British  Isles  alone,  a quarter  of  a million  of  people  are  daily  ex- 
ercised, directly  or  indirectly — as  manrights.  The  head  engineers — 
the  doctors,  surgeons,  apothecaries,  dentists,  oculists,  aurists,  &c.  &c. 
though  a formidable  phalanx  in  themselves,  are  a mere  drop  in  the  ocean, 
compared  with  the  myriads  of  subordinate  agents  engaged  in  collecting 
and  preparing  the  materials  for  those  who  apply  them ! And,  after 
making  due  allowance  for  the  useless  or  injurious  measures  that  are  em- 
ployed in  the  hope  of  remedying  defects  or  concealing  deformities,  man- 
kind draws  a prodigious  amount  of  succour  and  solace  from  this  maga- 
zine. I will  only  adduce  one  or  two  instances.  What  a source  of 
pleasure,  comfort,  and  happiness,  is  found  in  apiece  of  glass,  by  which  the 
human  eye,  in  age,  is  enabled  to  recover  and  maintain  the  focus  of  youth 
— and  thus  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  Nature,  and  peruse  the  effusions  of 
genius,  to  the  latest  years  of  existence  ! Whether  or  not  the  ancients 


* It  is  impossible  to  read  the  life  of  Cowper,  the  Poet,  without  coming  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  greater  part  of  his  life  was  passed  in  a state  of  insanity.  But 
that  insanity  was  dreadfully  exasperated  by  the  insane  conduct  of  some  of  his  friends 
— especially  that  fanatic  Newton,  who  dragged  the  melancholy  hypochondriac  through 
all  the  mazes  of  a visionary  system  of  religion,  expecting  a miraculous  interposition 
of  the  Deity,  in  favour  of  the  poor  poet,  instead  of  placing  him  under  the  care  of  a 
physician  to  check,  if  possible,  the  corporeal  disorder,  of  which  the  mental  delusion 
was  the  effect , or  outward  symptom  ! The  unhappy  bard  was  sacrificed,  body  and 
mind,  by  injudicious  friends  ! 


too 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


enjoyed  the  luxury  of  spectacles,  I am  not  certain.  I apprehend  that 
they  did  not.  And  if  so,  the  moderns  have  an  advantage  over  them 
which  is  incalculable  ! 

In  respect  to  the  teeth,  I think  it  very  probable  that  the  ancients  did 
not  experience  the  premature  decay  of  these  most  useful  and  ornamental 
instruments,  to  such  an  extent  as  is  now  witnessed.  But  lengthened 
years  must  have  demolished  the  teeth  in  all  ages  ; and  it  is  quite  certain 
that  our  forefathers  were  deprived,  or  rather  unpossessed  of  the  opera- 
tions and  inventions  of  dentists — excepting,  perhaps,  the  rude  and  pain- 
ful extraction  of  teeth  that  were  never  to  be  replaced.  The  amount  of 
advantage  conferred  on  mankind  by  the  substitution  of  artificial  organs 
of  mastication  and  speech,  when  the  natural  organs  are  destroyed,  is 
prodigious,  as  regards  health  and  happiness — leaving  aside  the  deformity 
and  mortification  attendant  on  toothless  gums. 

If  the  healing  art  has  introduced  a host  of  unprincipled  quacks  and 
impostors — and  if  the  art  itself  is  necessarily  conjectural  in  some  de- 
gree ; yet  it  confers  on  mortal  man  a great  boon.  It  averts  or  cures 
many  diseases  that  would  otherwise  be  fatal.  And  even  where  it 
cannot  avert  the  malady,  or  arrest  its  career,  it  inspires  hope,  and  thus 
strews  the  path  to  the  grave  with  flowers,  which,  without  it,  would  be 
planted  with  thorns,  tortured  with  pains,  and  clouded  with  despair ! 
Those  who,  in  health,  are  most  prone  to  scoff  at  medicine,  are  those 
who,  when  overtaken  with  the  pangs  of  disease,  are  most  eager,  and 
even  impatient  to  implore  its  aid. 

It  is  not,  indeed,  at  the  last  struggle  which  marks  the  liberation  of  the 
immortal  tenant  from  its  shattered  and  falling  mansion,  that  the  keenest 
agony  is  felt,  or  the  consolation  of  the  Divine  and  the  Physician  is  most 
wanted.  It  is  in  the  long  and  rugged  avenue  of  sickness  which  leads 
to  the  peaceful  grave,  that  the  balm  of  friendship,  the  support  of  re- 
ligion, and  the  anodyne  of  the  physician,  is  truly  needed  and  gratefully 
acknowledged. 

It  is  in  the  Eighth  Septenniad,  that  certain  spontaneous  changes  take 
place  in  the  balance  of  the  human  constitution,  which,  though  not  actu- 
ally forming  the  Grand  Climacteric,  create  the  materials  which  render 
that  epoch  critical,  if  not  dangerous.  After  the  age  of  50,  the  muscles 
lose  much  of  their  elasticity  and  aptitude  for  action — partly  from  time, 
partly  from  sedentary  avocations, — and  partly  from  indolence.  But  this 
diminution  of  muscular  activity  is  not  usually  attended  with  a corres- 


OBESITY. 


191 


ponding  diminution  of  relish  for  the  pleasures  of  the  table.  Very  often 
the  increase  of  this  relish  is  proportioned  to  the  decrease  of  inclination 
for  exercise. 

The  consequences  may  be  easily  imagined.  Obesity  is  the  result  of 
too  much  nutriment,  and  too  little  expenditure  of  that  nutriment  in  mus- 
cular exertion.  The  body  enlarges  in  size,  especially  about  the  seat  of 
the  digestive  organs — layer  after  layer  of  fat  is  deposited  in  the  abdo- 
men— and,  in  fine,  a portly  corporation  is  formed,  which  destroys  the 
symmetry  of  the  figure,  and  indisposes  still  further  to  healthful  bodily 
exercise.  These,  however,  would  be  trifling  evils  in  themselves.  They 
lead  to  much  greater  ones.  The  balance  of  the  circulation  is  disturbed, 
and  a greater  impulse  of  blood  is  directed  to  the  head.  The  pressure 
of  corpulency  on  the  great  vessels  descending  through  the  abdominal 
organs,  determines  inevitably  the  afflux  of  blood  to  the  upper  part  of  the 
body,  and  lays  the  foundation  of  numerous  and  dangerous  diseases  in 
this  or  in  the  succeeding  Septenniads.  It  is  at  this  period,  that  we  hear 
people  complaining  of  various  feelings  and  phenomena  about  the  head, 
which  are  too  often  disregarded,  or  attributed  to  indigestion,  when,  in 
reality,  they  are  precursors  of  apoplexy,  paralysis,  or  damage  of  the 
intellectual  powers.  Giddiness,  head-aches,  forgetfulness,  drowsiness, 
noise  in  the  ears,  specks  before  the  eyes,  numbness  of  some  of  the  upper 
or  lower  limbs,  diminution  of  sensation  or  muscular  power,  thickness  of 
speech,  tremors,  confusion  of  thought,  when  any  important  mental  ope- 
ration is  to  be  performed — these  and  many  other  warnings  of  this  kind 
which,  if  attended  to  in  time,  might  render  the  Grand  Climacteric 
of  the  next  Septenniad,  much  less  hazardous,  if  not  positively  safe,  are 
too  often  trifled  with  till  the  mischief  is  irremediable. 

Even  at  this  eleventh  hour,  many  bad  habits  may  be  corrected — many 
good  habits  fostered — many  dispositions  to  disorder  checked.  Those 
causes  which  tend  to  induce  obesity  or  corpulence  generally,  tend  to  in- 
duce fulness  of  the  vessels  of  the  brain,  and  to  weakness  of  those  vessels. 
Congestions  in  other  organs,  as  the  lungs,  liver,  &c.  are  also  the  usual 
consequences  of  corpulence.  And  what  are  these  causes  ? Indulgence 
of  the  appetite  and  of  indolence.  The  latter,  indeed,  is  the  natural 
sequence  of  the  former.  In  the  eighth  Septenniad,  luxurious  eating 
and  drinking  incapacitate  us  for  a proper  degree  of  bodily  exercise,  and 
take  away  all  desire  for  it.  The  evil  is  increased  by  the  declining  powers 
of  digestion,  at  a period  when  the  excitement  resulting  from  indulgences 


192 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


of  the  table  is  most  relished.  Hence  the  great  organs  become  oppressed, 
not  only  by  the  too  great  daily  supply,  but  by  the  remains  of  preceding 
repasts  still  lingering  in  the  body.  The  best  remedies  or  preventives  will 
not  be  adopted  by  one  in  one  thousand — temperance  and  exercise.  But 
many  will  adopt  the  second  best  means  of  preventing  diseases  and  pre- 
mature death.  These  are,  light  food  and  drink,  with  constant  attention 
to  the  great  safety-valve — the  bowels.  To  which  ought  to  be  added, 
exercise,  either  active  or  passive,  daily,  between  breakfast  and  dinner. 
If,  in  the  eighth  Septenniad,  when  a disposition  to  corpulency  appears, 
attended  with  any  of  the  warnings  already  mentioned,  the  individual 
does  not,  at  once,  abandon  turtle-soup  and  Champagne,  and  confine 
himself  to  fish,  poultry,  game,  and  pudding,  with  a moderate  portion  of 
light  wine,  daily  aperient  medicine,  and  exercise  in  the  open  air,  he  may 
calculate  on  a visitation,  in  that  or  the  next  Septenniad,  of  apoplexy, 
paralysis,  dropsy,  or  other  disease  that  will  cut  short  the  thread  of  ex- 
istence,— or  render  life  a burthen  instead  of  a blessing. 

This  is  the  admonition  of  long  experience  and  extensive  observation. 
It  is  a prescription  without  a fee,  and  worth  at  least  three  times  the 
price  of  the  book  in  which  it  is  contained.  If  adopted,  it  will  save  many 
a valuable  life — prevent  many  a domestic  calamity — and  insure  much 
individual  happiness. 


GOUT.* 

Gout,  like  consumption,  is  often  hereditary — often  acquired.  In  the 
former  disease  we  are  punished  for  the  sins  of  our  forefathers — in  the 
latter , for  their  misfortunes  ! — This  seems  hard  ; but  so  it  is.  Large 
volumes  have  been  written  on  this  painful  malady — not  perhaps  with  the 
object,  but  certainly  with  the  effect,  of  mystifying  its  nature,  obscuring 
its  causes,  and  complicating  its  treatment.  In  a very  few  pages  may 
be  concentrated  most  of  what  is  really  known,  and  much  of  what  can 
be  honestly  communicated  respecting  this  dire  affliction.  It  is  a near 


* The  location  of  this  disease  in  an)7  particular  Septenniad  is  rather  arbitrary.  It 
has  been  witnessed  in  all  periods  of  life,  from  infancy  to  old  age.  Its  causes  are  often 
laid  very  early ; but,  generally  speaking,  it  is  a disorder  that  displays  itself  most  con- 
spicuously after  the  meridian  of  life — after  the  fifth  or  sixth  Septenniad.  I have 
placed  it  in  the  eighth  Septenniad,  as  that  in  which  it  begins  to  press  heavily  on  the 
constitution. — 2d  Edition. 


GOUT, 


193 


relative — perhaps  the  original  representative  of  the  Patho-Proteian 
family  already  described  in  this  Essay.  It  is,  in  general,  the  offspring  of 
indulgence  and  indolence,  though  often  acknowledging  many  other 
parents.  Every  one  of  those  numerous  causes  which  lead  to  indiges- 
tion, may  be  classed  as  contributaries  to  gout.  Cullen  defined  it  an 
hereditary  disease — and  indeed  it  pretty  regularly  descends  with  encum- 
bered estates,  thus  forming  the  duplicate  title  to  disorder  of  body  and 
anxiety  of  mind.  In  earlier  periods,  gout  was  a badge  of  nobility — or 
at  least  of  riches ; for  affluence  only  could  afford  to  be  luxurious. 
Afterwards  commerce  brought  wealth,  and  the  means  of  pampering  the 
appetite,  with  ample  causes  for  impairing  the  digestion.  Gout  then 
descended  a step  lower  in  the  world,  and  extended  its  ravages  much 
wider  in  society.  Still  later,  civilization  and  refinement  introduced 
additional  sorrows  and  vexations  of  spirit : — and,  now,  the  once  proud 
badge  of  ancestral  pride  and  hereditary  honours,  is  affixed  to  the  most 
mushroom  escutcheons — nay,  it  pays  its  unwelcome  visits  to  the  cottage 
of  the  peasant  and  the  workshop  of  the  mechanic  ! 

Gout,  whether  hereditary  or  acquired,  is  only  the  last  link  in  a long 
chain  of  morbid  phenomena,  to  which  it  generally  proves  a crisis  for  the 
time.  It  seldom  explodes  without  premonitory  symptoms  and  adequate 
causes.  The  causes  are  all  those  which  disorder  the  digestive  organs — 
but  chiefly  luxurious  diet  and  indolence.  The  regular  drunkard  is  sel- 
dom the  subject  of  gout.  He  becomes  the  prey  of  liver  disease,  and 
dies  of  dropsy.  It  is  on  the  gourmand  that  gout  falls  most  heavily  ; 
though  when  the  hereditary  taint  is  strong,  the  most  rigid  temperance 
and  the  most  systematic  exercise  will  not  always  stave  off  the  evil. 
They  will  greatly  mitigate  its  severity,  however,  and  amply  repay  the 
sacrifice  that  is  made.  But  causes  the  most  varied  and  opposite  will 
derange  the  process  of  digestion — and  this  disturbance  will,  in  a small 
number,  induce  gout — in  the  multitude,  it  will  produce  a worse  evil — - 
the  Proteian  malady — the  hydra-headed  dyspepsy. 

In  respect  to  the  premonitory  or  warning  symptoms,  they  are  those  of 
indigestion — flatulence,  acidity,  distention  of  stomach,  failure  of  appe- 
tite, disrelish  of  accustomed  food,  constipation,  secretion  of  uric  acid 
in  the  kidneys,  depression  of  spirits,  irritability  of  temper,  troubled 
sleep,  &c.  &c.  &c.  It  is  curious,  however,  that,  in  a few  instances,  just 
before  the  attack,  the  feeling  of  health  is  stronger  than  usual,  as  if 


c c 


J94 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


Nature  wound  herself  up,  and  collected  all  her  energies  for  the  ap- 
proaching conflict. 

In  the  simpler  forms  and  earlier  attacks  of  gout,  the  pain  comes  on 
in  the  night,  usually  in  the  great  toe,  but  sometimes  in  the  heel  or 
instep.  The  agony  resembles  that  of  a dislocated  joint — and  symptoms 
of  febrile  movements  soon  succeed,  as  chilliness,  quickness  of  pulse,  and 
thirst.  The  paroxysm  gradually  increases  in  intensity  for  18  or  20 
hours,  abating  a little  the  next  evening,  to  be  renewed  in  the  night  with 
absence  of  all  chance  of  sleep  or  rest.  The  afflicted  victim  is  inces- 
santly shifting  his  position,  without  ever  attaining  ease ! Towards 
morning  of  the  second  day,  there  is  often  a remission,  or  even  solution 
of  the  fit,  where  the  constitution  is  good,  and  the  malady  recent.  But 
the  attacks  vary  from  24  hours  to  as  many  days,  the  intervals  of  im- 
munity being  also  of  various  duration,  from  two  or  three  years,  to  three 
or  four  months,  or  even  weeks. 

At  first,  the  paroxysm  is  succeeded  by  a renewed  state  of  health  and 
vigour,  and  the  foot  is  not  at  all  disabled  ; but,  in  process  of  time,  as 
the  paroxysms  become  multiplied  and  lengthened,  successive  joints  are 
invaded,  till  at  length  the  feet  and  hands  are  rendered  almost  useless, 
and  converted  into  misshapen  masses.  The  enemy  now  invests  the 
citadels  of  life,  the  heart,  brain,  or  stomach,  and  carries  off  its  victims 
in  one  of  these  unequal  combats  ! 

Sydenham,  who  suffered  35  years  from  gout,  has  detailed  a host  of 
minute  and  anomalous  symptoms  which  precede  or  accompany  gout, 
and  modern  authors  have  extended  the  catalogue.  But  a great  propor- 
tion of  these  ailments  had  no  necessary  connexion  with  gout  itself,  but 
were  the  effects  of  its  causes — namely,  disorders  of  the  digestive  organs. 
But  this  supposed  connexion  led,  and  every  day  leads  to  most  injurious 
measures  of  treatment.  Gout  being  considered  as  a critical  elimination 
of  some  peccant  humour  in  the  body,  cordials,  stimulants,  and  gene- 
rous diet  were  exhibited  by  way  of  keeping  up  the  energy  of  the  con- 
stitution, and  throwing  off  the  evil  by  a paroxysm  of  the  malady.  In 
this  way,  gout  was  increased  in  force,  and  accelerated  in  its  returns, 
instead  of  being  prevented  by  the  withdrawal  of  its  causes.  The 
Portland  powders  did  mischief  enough  in  their  day.  The  tonics  and 
bitters  of  our  own  times  are  only  different  modes  of  doing  similar  mis- 
chief. 

As  prevention  is  better  than  cure,  and  as  full  feeding  and  indolent 


r.OUT. 


195 


habits  are  the  chief  causes  of  gout,  so  temperance  and  exercise  are  the 
most  certain  preventives.  Those  who  inherit  the  gouty  constitution 
have  the  greatest  need  of  early  habits  of  simplicity  of  diet.  There  is 
no  necessity  for  extreme  abstinence,  for  this  indeed  would  often  do  more 
harm  than  good.  He  who  wishes  to  avoid  the  pains  and  penalties  of 
gout,  should  dine  almost  always  on  tender  meat  and  stale  bread,  eaten 
very  slowly,  and  drink  weak  brandy  and  water,  or  moderately  of  good 
sherry  wine.  The  quantity  should  be  guided  by  the  feelings  of  the 
individual.  The  golden  rule  is  to  avoid  satiety,  and  to  leave  off  with 
the  power  of  eating  more.  In  fine,  the  same  diet  that  prevents  or  cures 
indigestion  is  strictly  applicable  to  gout.  All  food  of  difficult  digestion, 
all  acids,  and,  in  general,  malt  liquors  should  be  avoided,  though  the 
quantity  is  of  still  more  consequence  than  the  quality  of  our  nutri- 
ment. This  simplicity  and  temperance  of  diet  is  within  the  reach  of  all 
— though  only  a few  will  adopt  it  till  too  late.  Exercise  is  also  within 
the  power  of  many — not  of  all.  Where  neither  the  one  nor  the  other 
will  be  adopted  or  steadily  pursued,  there  are  artificial  means  of  greatly 
lessening  the  gouty  disposition,  and  greatly  mitigating  the  force  of  the 
paroxysms.* 

Where  regular  (not  violent)  exercise  cannot  or  will  not  be  taken, 
frictions  are  a kind  of  substitute.  By  these  simple  means  I have  known 
many  who  have  warded  off,  or  considerably  mitigated  the  paroxysms  of 


* The  following  preventives  have  succeeded  better  than  any  other  merely  remedial 
means.  The  bowels  should  be  regulated  by  No.  1,  taken  every  second  or  third 
night,  according  to  the  strength  of  the  predisposition.  No.  2 should  be  taken  once 
a fortnight,  or  once  a month,  according  to  the  hereditary  or  acquired  tendency. 


No.  1.  Ji.  Ext.  col.  comp. 

Pil.  rheicomp aa  5ss. 

— Hydrarg gr.  viij. 

Ipecac,  pulv gr.  iv. 

01.  carui gt.  v. 

Ft.  pil.xvj.  Capt.  ij.  alternis  vel  tertiis  noctibus. 

No.  2.  p>.  Infus.rhei ^iss. 

Magnes.  carb gr.  x. 

Tart,  sodse 3ij. 

Vini  colchic 

Tinct.  rhei  comp 3j. 

sennse 5j. 


Ft.  haustus  primo  mane  sumendus.  Semel  vel  bis  in  mense. 


196 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


gout.  They  are  means  which  cannot  do  injury  in  almost  any  con- 
stitution. 

TREATMENT  DURING  AN  ATTACK. 

In  former  times,  from  some  indefinite  idea  that  gout  threw  out  some 
peccant  humour  from  the  constitution,  and  thus  gave  it  a kind  of  tem- 
porary renovation,  the  mode  of  treatment,  by  “ patience  and  flannel,” 
protracted  and  exasperated  the  attacks.  In  modern  times,  men  ran  into 
the  contrary  extreme.  They  plunged  the  feet  into  cold  water,  and 
leeched  the  parts  as  if  affected  by  common  inflammation  after  a wound 
or  contusion.  This  latter  plan,  though  it  often  cut  short  the  paroxysm 
in  strong  constitutions  and  in  primary  attacks,  yet  it  also  did  sometimes 
transfer  the  gout  from  the  extremities  to  an  internal  organ,  and  thus 
endangered  or  destroyed  life.  A more  rational  doctrine  led  to  a less 
dangerous  practice.  A medium  has  been  adopted  that  avoids  both  ex- 
tremes. When  the  attack  takes  place,  the  inflamed  part  should  be  kept 
constantly  wet  with  a spirituous  lotion  applied  warm,  and  the  clothes 
wetted  whenever  they  get  dry.* 

By  keeping  a loose  flannel  over  the  wetted  clothes,  the  parts  will  be 
constantly  in  a kind  of  vapour-bath,  and  the  pain  and  inflammation 
will  be  greatly  mitigated  and  curtailed.  Leeches  will  seldom  be  neces- 
sary, except  in  young  people,  or  in  plethoric  constitutions.  This  is  all 
the  topical  treatment  that  is  necessary.  The  farrago  of  local  applica- 
tions is  sheer  charlatanism. 

But  the  chief  means  of  safely  curtailing  the  paroxysm  of  gout  are  by 
internal  remedies.  These  must  vary  under  different  states  of  constitu- 
tion, but  the  remedies  mentioned  below  are  those  which  may  be  safely 
employed  in  almost  every  case,  though  others  may  be  occasionally 
necessary.! 


* The  following  is  a safe  and  efficient  application 


P>.  Liq.  ammon.  acet ^v- 

Mist,  camphorae 3VJ- 

Spir.  vin.  tenu  £j. 


Misce  fiat  lotio. 
t At  Night. 

Ijt.  Pulv.  ipecacuanhae  comp.,  gr.  x. 


Sub.  hydrargyri gr.  ij. 

Pulv.  zingiberis  gr.  ij. 


Pt.  pulvis  hora  somni  sumendus  ex  vehiculo  crasso. 


GOUT. 


197 


The  paroxysm  will  often  be  carried  off  by  one  or  two  doses  of  this 
medicine.  If  not,  it  may  be  repeated  for  three  or  four  nights  and 
mornings.  If  the  attack  is  not  reduced  by  that  time,  patience  and 
milder  means  must  be  employed  till  the  disease  has  expended  its  vio- 
lence. These  means  must  be  left  to  the  discretion  of  the  attendant 
practitioner. 

But  it  must  ever  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  remedies  for  the  actual 
paroxysm  of  gout  only  repel  the  enemy  for  a time.  He  will  speedily 
return,  unless  the  preventive  means  of  temperance  and  exercise,  with  all 
those  precautions  which  are  necessary  for  the  prevention  of  indigestion, 
be  steadily  kept  in  force.  It  is  through  the  medium  of  the  digestive 
organs  that  gout  is  developed,  and  consequently  it  is  by  keeping  them 
in  the  best  possible  order,  that  the  malady  is  prevented.* * 


In  the  Morning. 


JT  Infusi  rhei ^iv. 

Pulv.  rhei 9j. 

Tart,  sodae 5iij. 

Vini  colchici 5j. 

Magnesias  carb gr.  xv. 

Tinct.  rhei  compos ^iij. 

sennae ^iij. 

jalapae 3iss. 


Misce  ft.  mistura,  capiat  tertiam  partem  primo  mane,  et  repetetur  dosis  alternis  horis 
donee  alvus  respondeat. 


* As  I have  entered  into  a minute  detail  of  the  means  of  preventing  and  remedying 
indigestion  in  a work  which  has  gone  through  nine  editions,  it  would  be  useless  to 
enter  upon  the  subject  more  at  large  in  this  place,  especially  as  that  work  is  more 
widely  diffused  than  this  can  ever  hope  to  be. 


198 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


NINTH  SEPTENNIAD. 

[56  to  63.] 

GRAND  CLIMACTERIC. 

In  the  ascent  of  a mountain,  our  steps  are  slow,  and  the  miles  appear 
long ; but,  in  the  descent,  on  the  other  side,  our  paces  are  quick,  and  the 
space  which  we  traverse  seems  short.  It  is  so  in  the  journey  of  human 
life.  In  youth,  and  before  the  meridian  is  attained,  each  year  appears 
almost  as  long  as  a Septenniad.  In  the  decline  of  life,  each  Septenniad 
seems  little  more  than  a year  ! It  is  in  the  latter,  or  post  meridiem  part 
of  the  journey,  that  we  begin  to  notice  the  swiftness  of  time,  and  to  ap- 
preciate duly  the  value,  as  well  as  the  shortness  of  life  ! Every  day  offers 
materials  for  reflection  on  the  past,  and  retrospection  instinctively  veers 
round  to  prospective  glances  into  the  future.  It  is  said  by  the  poet  that — 

“ Heaven  from  all  creatures  hides  the  book  of  fate. 

All  but  the  page  prescribed — their  present  state.” 

This  is  perfectly  true,  as  respects  animals  ; but  does  not  strictly  apply  to 
man.  The  ox  and  the  sheep  see  their  companions  slaughtered,  without 
any  apprehension  of  death.  The  startling  sight  of  blood,  and  the 
groans  or  struggles  of  their  murdered  mates,  occasion  terror,  and  prompt 
them  to  escape — not  from  death,  but  from  injury.  The  love  of  life  and 
the  fear  of  death  are  different  things.  The  former  is  instinctive , and  is 
implanted  as  strongly  in  the  breast  of  the  meanest  reptile,  as  in  that  of 
man  himself.  The  latter  is  rational  and  peculiar  to  man — the  only  ani- 
mal who  learns  that  he  must  die — and  the  only  animal  who  believes  that 
there  is  another  world,  where  his  actions  in  this  one  may  be  taken  into 
account.  It  is  very  true  that  man  knows  not  the  when  and  the  where  he 
is  to  “ shuffle  off  this  mortal  coil  ;**  but  every  insurance  office  can  in- 
form him,  with  much  more  precision  and  truth  than  the  oracle  of  Apollo, 
what  is  the  probable  number  of  his  days.  In  this  Septenniad,  indeed, 
the  most  obtuse  intellect  cannot  help  perceiving  the  annual — almost  the 
monthly  descent  of  his  oldest  friends  and  acquaintances  into  the  grave. 
This  is  not  noticed  in  the  earlier  Septenniads,  because,  in  fact,  there  is 
not  then  such  a marked  mortality  amongst  those  of  our  own  age,  and 


GRAND  CLIMACTERIC. 


199 


consequently  amongst  those  with  whom  we  are  most  intimately  ac- 
quainted. But,  after  the  meridian,  our  attention  is  strongly  drawn  to  the 
lapses  of  life,  occurring  amongst  personages  whose  images  are  irrevo- 
cably implanted  in  our  memories  ; — and  sombre  reflection  on  the  short- 
ness and  instability  of  human  existence  is  unavoidable. 

In  this  Septenniad,  the  love  of  money  takes  the  decided  lead  over  the 
love  of  sex — and  even  over  ambition.  We  see,  indeed,  occasional — 
perhaps  too  many — alliances  between  January  and  May,  at  this  period  ; 
but  they  are  unhallowed  unions,  destined  soon  to  dissolve ! When 
Love,  at  the  age  of  60,  pushes  aside  Ambition  and  Avarice,  it  is  the 
ghost  of  boyish  passion  resuscitated  for  a moment  from  the  grave — and, 
like  other  ghosts,  soon  to  vanish  from  the  stage. 

But  the  most  important  feature  of  the  Ninth  Septenniad  is,  the  Grand 
Climacteric — an  epoch  that  has  been  regarded,  in  all  ages,  with  some- 
thing like  mysterious  awe,  as  the  most  critical  in  human  life.  Popular 
opinions  of  this  kind  are  generally  based  on  observation,  however  in- 
accurate, and  are  rarely  the  offspring  of  mere  fancy,  or  a superstitious 
combination  of  numbers.  Nine  times  seven  forms  a remarkable — indeed 
an  appalling  multiple,  and  very  few  can  apply  it  to  themselves,  without 
feelings  of  the  penseroso  kind  ! 

But  the  “ Grand  Climacteric”  is  not  merely  a popular  superstition  ; 
it  has  engaged  the  attention,  and  occupied  the  pen  of  a modern  physi- 
cian of  great  distinction.  As  the  Essay  was  written  some  twenty  years 
ago,  it  wants  that  development  which  Sir  Henry  Halford’s  further  ex- 
perience would  have  rendered  more  valuable.  It  is  not  my  intention, 
however,  to  draw  from  any  other  source  than  the  evidence  of  my  own 
senses  on  this  occasion. 

The  changes  in  the  balance  of  the  constitution  which  began  to  shew 
themselves  rather  unequivocally  in  the  Eighth  Septenniad,  become  but 
too  conspicuous,  as  the  age  of  60  is  touched,  in  a great  majority  of  both 
sexes.  The  Ninth  Septenniad  is  clearly  the  “ fifth  age”  of  Shakespeare, 
typified  by  the  “ Justice,”  possessed  of  a portly  corporation,  “ with 
good  capon  lined” — 

“ With  eyes  severe  and  beard  of  formal  cut. 

Full  of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances.” 

Where  corpulency  does  not  obtain  at  this  period,  a contrary  state  not 
unfrequently  commences.  The  fluids  of  the  body  diminish  in  quantity 
—the  softer  parts  shrink — and  the  solid  parts,  as  bones,  cartilages,  liga- 


200 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


merits,  &c.  become  more  condensed  than  ever.  The  vessels  conveying 
the  blood  from  the  heart  to  all  parts  of  the  body,  begin  to  partially  ossify 
(as  it  is  commonly  termed),  and  are  thus  greatly  weakened  at  the  junc- 
tion of  the  indurated  with  the  elastic  portions,  rendering  them  liable  to 
give  way  from  distention  or  pressure.  The  cartilages  of  the  ribs  being 
turned  into  bone,  the  chest  loses  much  of  its  expansive  and  contractile 
capabilities,  and  the  breathing  is  less  easy,  especially  when  the  body  is 
in  motion.  The  joints  grow  stiff,  and  the  muscles  get  flaccid.  All  the 
senses  become  much  more  obtuse — and  the  various  appetites  greatly  di- 
minished— some  of  them  being  almost  annihilated.  By  short-sighted 
man  this  diminution  of  enjoyment,  in  the  exercise  of  the  senses  and 
appetites,  is  keenly  deplored,  though  it  is  wisely  ordained  by  the  Omnis- 
cient Architect.  Were  the  appetites  to  remain  unimpaired,  while  the 
material  fabric  is  necessarily,  but  gradually  breaking  down,  the  weakened 
organs  would  be  overpowered — and  sudden  death,  or  painful  maladies 
would  be  the  consequence.  This  is  sometimes  the  case,  even  as  it  is, 
when  the  appetites  are  stimulated  by  provocatives,  and  the  tide  of  en- 
joyment swells  beyond  the  channels  which  were  destined  to  confine  it. 

About  this  period,  too,  the  teeth,  in  a vast  majority  of  people,  become 
deficient  in  number,  and  very  inadequate  to  the  important  function  of 
mastication — while  digestion,  already  weakened,  is  thus  greatly  em- 
barrassed, by  the  additional  labour  imposed  on  the  stomach.  All  the 
internal  organs  growing  more  torpid,  the  secretions  necessarily  get  more 
scanty.  The  skin  itself  becomes  more  dry,  shrivelled,  and  wrinkled — 
the  veins  are  enlarged  and  blue,  slowly  propelling  the  vital  current 
towards  the  heart.  In  fine,  every  structure  and  function  in  the  body 
shew  clear  and  unequivocal  marks  of  deterioration,  gradually,  but  steadily 
increasing ! 

Nor  do  the  intellectual  faculties  remain  unaffected,  though  they  do 
not  always  evince  a strict  correspondence  with  the  failure  of  corporeal 
functions.  Imagination,  wit,  and  memory  may  flag  ; but  judgment, 
understanding,  and  wisdom  remain  firm  as  a rock.  Sixty  years’  ex- 
perience indeed  of  human  vicissitudes  converts  temerity  into  caution — 
sanguine  hope  into  cool  calculation — castles  in  the  air  into  habitations 
a little  (and  but  a little)  more  durable  on  earth — credulity  into  doubt — 
confidence  into  suspicion — prodigality  into  parsimony — and  contempt 
of  danger  into  timidity  and  love  of  life. 

These  and  various  other  changes,  moral  and  physical,  are  so  gradual, 


GRAND  CLIMACTERIC. 


201 


that  they  cannot  be  measured  by  any  standard  of  days,  weeks,  or  months 
— scarcely  indeed  of  years.  But,  whether  from  original  defect  in  the 
organization,  accidental  injuries  sustained  in  the  journey,  or,  what  is 
more  common,  from  overworking  of  the  living  machine,  it  not  unfre- 
quently  happens  that,  about  the  ninth  Septenniad  (sometimes  sooner 
sometimes  later),  a marked  alteration  takes  place  in  the  rate  of  pro- 
gression, or  rather  retrogression.  In  the  course  of  a single  year,  nay 
of  a few  months,  the  physiognomy  will  present  a singular  and  inauspi- 
cious look  of  deterioration.  The  character  of  expression  in  the  coun- 
tenance is  changed — the  features  are  pinched — the  eye  is  lack-lustre — 
the  strength  is  greatly  diminished — the  flesh  wasted  or  bloated — the 
voice  feeble — the  gait  unfirm — the  appetite  in  abeyance — the  thirst  often 
troublesome — the  spirits  unaccountably  depressed  ; and  all  this,  without 
any  tangible  or  visible  disease,  to  explain  the  sudden  declension  of  the 
various  physical  powers  ! 

This  is  the  Climacteric  itself ; but  not  the  Climacteric  disease. 
The  functions  are  greatly  impaired  ; but  no  vital  organ  has,  as  yet,  been 
affected  in  structure.  The  truth  is,  that  the  organs  of  daily  supply  are 
now  inadequate  to  repair  the  daily  waste — and  the  laws  of  vitality  are 
no  longer  able  to  counteract  the  chemical  lawTs  of  decomposition.  The 
whole  material  fabric  is  therefore  gradually  crumbling  down.  But  I 
believe  that  very  few  touch  the  final  goal  of  existence  in  this  way — at 
least  I have  seen  no  example  of  the  kind.  This  general  dilapidation — 
this  universal  decadence  of  functional  power  having  obtained,  for  a longer 
or  shorter  period,  some  particular  organ  or  class  of  organs,  gives  way  in 
function  or  structure  more  than  the  others,  and  then  we  have  the 
“ Climacteric  disease .”  Thus  the  absorbents  are  frequently  the  first  to 
fail  in  their  office, — the  ancles  swell — and  effusions  take  place  into  the 
cavities  of  the  brain,  chest,  or  abdomen,  with  corresponding  symptoms. 
If  the  effusion  be  in  the  head,  we  have  drowsiness,  loss  of  memory, 
thickness  of  speech,  diminution  of  muscular  power,  partial  paralysis — 
and  finally,  apoplexy  of  the  watery  kind. 

If  the  effusion  be  in  the  chest,  we  have  cough,  embarrassed  respiration, 
inability  to  lie  low  in  bed,  breathlessness  in  ascending  stairs,  &c.  &c.  If 
the  effusion  be  in  the  abdomen,  dropsy  is  the  “ Climacteric  disease.’" 
If  the  organs  of  digestion  and  nutrition  be  the  first  to  give  way  (which 
is  very  often  the  case),  then  we  have  atrophy  or  general  wasting  of  the 
body — ending  in  dropsical  effusions. 


ad 


202 


KCONOMV  OF  HEALTH. 


But  it  not  infrequently  happens  that  the  heart  itself  is  the  organ  on 
which  the  “ Climacteric  disease”  falls.  It  becomes  enlarged  in  size, 
softened  in  structure,  thinned  in  its  "walls,  and  imperfect  in  its  valves. 
The  effects  of  this  disease  are  far  more  conspicuous  in  the  function  of 
respiration  than  in  that  of  the  circulation.  As  at  the  time  Sir  Henry 
Halford  wrote,  we  had  not  the  means  of  distinguishing  diseases  of  the 
heart,  by  the  stethoscope,  which  we  now  have,  so  the  “ climacteric 
disease”  has  probably  been  supposed  to  fall  on  the  lungs  when  the 
heart  was  the  seat  of  disease.*  In  the  course  of  a long  experience  I 
have  met  with  few  instances  of  this  kind.  In  those  cases  where  the 
lungs  were  apparently  affected,  the  heart  was  the  organ  primarily  and 
essentially  diseased.  Every  experienced  practitioner,  indeed,  is  now 
well  aware  of  this  fact.  At  the  period  alluded  to,  asthma  was  generally 
considered  an  affection  of  the  lungs  alone  : — at  present,  it  is  known  that, 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  it  is  attributable  to,  or  combined  with,  disease 
of  the  heart. 

And  here  we  have  a most  important  subject  to  consider.  In  the 
climacteric  decline , and  before  any  one  particular  organ  breaks  up — 
when  we  have  a great  deterioration  of  several  functions,  without  marked 
disease  of  any  one  structure, — is  there  any  chance  of  checking  the  pro- 
gress of  decay,  or  staving  off,  for  a time  at  least,  the  climacteric  disease  ? 
This  question  is  not  so  easily  solved,  even  by  experience,  as  might  be 
expected — and  for  this  reason — that  all  the  phenomena  of  the  climac- 
teric decline  occasionally  present  themselves  in  people  who  are  very  far 
short  of  the  ninth  Septenniad — and  where  recovery  often  takes  place. 
There  is  no  reason  why  the  same  might  not  occur  in  the  climacteric 
period,  and  yet  not  be  the  climacteric  decline.  There  is  a curious 
imitation  of  the  Grand  Climacteric  that  manifests  itself  among  young 
women,  from  the  age  of  20  to  30  years,  and  which  I have  often  ob- 
served. They  appear  to  be  fine  plump  healthy  girls  till  the  above  period, 
when  they  begin  to  lose  flesh,  droop  in  spirits,  grow  languid  and  pale, 
with  defective  appetite,  torpid  secretions,  and,  in  short,  a general  break 
up  of  the  health,  without  any  evident  cause — without  any  tangible  dis- 


* “ Of  the  various  immediate  causes  to  which  this  malady  may  owe  its  com- 
mencement, there  is  none  more  frequent  than  a common  cold.” 

“ When  it  combines  itself  with  a common  cold,  the  symptoms  of  catarrh  continue 
to  manifest  themselves,  and  to  predominate  throughout  the  greater  part  of  the  du- 
ration of  the  climacteric  disease.” — Sir  H.  Halford. 


CLIMACTERIC  DISEASE. 


203 


ease  of  organ  or  function.  It  is  seldom  fatal,  though  I have  known  it 
go  on  till  death  closed  the  scene.  More  frequently  it  takes  a turn  for 
the  better — sometimes  without  any  apparent  reason — more  often  from 
some  love-fit — or  marriage — or  time,  which  cures  love-melancholy,  as 
well  as  this  erotic  decline.  Though  the  cause  of  this  pseudo,  or  pre- 
mature climacteric  is  not  always  apparent,  its  real  nature  rarely  escapes 
the  notice  of  the  experienced  physician.  It  is  little  under  the  control 
of  drugs ! 

Whenever  the  state  of  society  or  the  times  we  live  in  produces  an 
unusual  number  of  old  maids , we  are  sure  to  find  on  the  sick-list,  a pro- 
portionate number  of  young  maidens.  Who  does  not  daily  visit  fami- 
lies where  three,  four,  or  five  beautiful  and  amiable  young  ladies,  from 
sixteen  to  six-and-twenty  years  of  age,  are  seen  sitting  round  the  work- 
table, or  iterating  mechanical  music  at  the  piano,  from  month  to  month 
— from  year  to  year — “ Nobody  coming  to  woo.” 

Is  it  wonderful  that  this  monotonous  life,  this  cheerless  prospect, 
should  make  serious  impression  on  the  sensitive  minds  of  these  young 
creatures?  We  see  the  lily  gradually  usurp  the  place  of  the  rose,  on 
some  of  their  cheeks — and  the  state  of  health  which  I have  just  des- 
cribed, steal  slowly  over  the  drooping  frame.  The  parents  take  alarm 
— the  best  advice  which  the  town  can  afford,  is  procured — bark,  steel, 
myrrh,  camphor,  and  assafcetida  are  swallowed — and  even  good  old 
Port ; but  in  vain  ! The  bloom  of  health  refuses  to  return  to  the  faded 
cheek — and  the  doctor  is  blamed  for  the  inefficacy  of  physic  ! 

There  is  but  one  remedy  that  promises  any  advantage  in  such  cases 
— and  that  is  exercise.  The  sedentary  life  which  young  females  lead, 
and  the  avocations  of  music,  painting,  reading,  &c.  are  all  injurious ; 
and  nothing  but  gradually-increased  exercise  of  the  body  in  the  open 
air  offers  a chance  of  checking  the  moping  melancholy  of  hope  deferred 
and  expectations  blighted ! 

But  to  return  from  this  short  digression.  In  several  instances  that 
have  come  under  my  own  observation,  and  where  all  the  symptoms  of 
the  climacteric  decline — and  that  after  the  age  of  60 — were  unequivocal, 
the  constitution  has  rallied,  at  least  for  some  years,  and  the  individuals 
have  died  at  last  of  other  diseases.  This  has  happened  where  especial 
care  was  taken — 

“ To  husband  out  Life's  taper  at  its  close, 

And  keep  the  flame  from  wasting  by  repose.” 


204 


ECONOMY  Of  HEALTH. 


It  was  not,  by  repose,  however,  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  term— 
by  reclining  on  the  sofa — and  stimulating  a jaded  appetite  by  provoca- 
tives. The  farrago  of  tonics,  cordials,  and  nutriments,  in  such  cases, 
only  tend  to  consume  the  pabulum  of  life  more  rapidly,  and  extinguish 
the  flame  more  quickly.  The  repose  is  that  of  passive  motion  in  a 
carriage — if  possible  in  an  open  one — perpetually  changing  the  air  and 
scene.  It  is  now  nearly  twenty  years  since  my  attention  was  strongly 
drawn  to  the  subject,  by  a remarkable  example.  A gentleman  near  the 
close  of  the  Ninth  Septenniad,  suddenly  fell  off,  with  all  the  symptoms 
of  the  climacteric  decline — and  some  symptoms  that  indicated  the  com- 
mencement of  even  the  climacteric  disease.  A favourable  season  pre- 
sented itself — he  was  rolled  along  in  an  open  carriage,  daily,  for  three 
months,  and  over  a space  of  3000  miles.  He  recovered  flesh  and  strength, 
and  was  killed  by  an  accident  two  years  afterwards.  Since  that  period, 
I have  ascertained  that  several  similar  instances  of  recovery  have  taken 
place,  by  a similar  procedure ; and  I have  no  doubt  that  this  remedy, 
where  it  can  be  procured,  is  superior  to  all  others  on  such  occasions  as 
the  present.  The  remarks  which  I have  made  on  travelling- exercise  in 
the  open  air,  will  apply  to  the  present  subject  with  force. 

The  climacteric  disease  is  not  confined  to  a particular  part,  or  a pecu- 
liar form.  It  is  the  breaking- up  of  function  or  structure,  or  both,  in  the 
weakest  organ  of  the  body.  When  a function  totally  or  principally 
fails,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  structure  of  the  corresponding 
organ  or  part  must  be  more  or  less  changed  in  its  molecular  organiza- 
tion, though  that  change  may  not  be  visible  to  the  eye  or  demonstrable 
by  the  scalpel. 

Although  the  function  of  digestion  would  seem  to  be  the  first,  or 
amongst  the  first  to  fail,  in  the  climacteric  disease,  yet  is  does  not  ap- 
pear to  be  the  one  which  leads  directly  to  the  final  issue.  Defect  in 
assimilation  (the  conversion  of  the  food  into  nutritious  blood),  is  much 
more  frequently  the  cause  of  the  emaciation  and  debility,  than  the  mere 
loss  of  digestive  power.  Dropsical  effusions  into  the  different  cavities, 
especially  those  of  the  chest  and  head,  are  the  most  common  forerunners 
of  death,  in  the  climacteric  disease.  The  former  occasion  difficulty  of 
breathing  in  ascending  stairs,  with  some  cough  and  wheezing : — the 
latter  render  the  individual  drowsy,  stupid,  forgetful,  torpid,  palsied — 
and  ultimately  apoplectic. 

The  heart,  as  I said  before,  is  not  unfrequcntly  the  organ  on  which 


CXI  M A CTJ£ K ! C DI S EASE . 


20.') 


the  climacteric  disease  falls.  It  grows  flabby  in  structure — dilated  in 
its  cavities — attenuated  in  its  walls — and  imperfect  in  its  valves.  This 
is  the  most  common  cause  of  the  dropsical  effusions,  the  difficulty  of 
breathing,  the  cough — and  those  symptoms  which,  at  a former  period, 
were  set  down  as  affections  of  the  lungs. 

It  would  be  a tedious,  and,  perhaps,  useless  task,  to  detail  the  various 
ways  in  which  the  climacteric  disease  winds  up  the  drama  of  human 
life.  The  function  of  the  kidneys  often  fails,  with  corresponding  change 
in  their  structure  and  secretion.  This  is  a form  of  the  climacteric  dis- 
ease which  has  been  much  overlooked,  but  which  is  now  attracting  con- 
siderable attention.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  liver.  Defective 
function  in  this  organ  prostrates  the  strength,  and  reduces  the  flesh,  in  a 
most  extraordinary  manner.  It  arrests  nutrition,  and  thus  subverts  the 
powers  of  life,  without  producing  any  very  marked  phenomena  that 
might  awaken  suspicion  as  to  the  cause. 

It  is  humiliating  to  confess  that,  in  climacteric  diseases,  palliatives 
only  can  be  offered  by  the  most  skilful  physician — and  it  is  little  less 
painful  to  observe  the  amount  of  mischief  which  is  every  day  inflicted 
on  humanity  by  rashness,  empiricism,  and  ignorance,  in  such  cases. 
Modern  researches  in  morbid  anatomy,  have  not  enabled  us  to  cure  dis- 
eases that  were  previously  incurable ; but  they  have  shewn  us  what  are  and 
what  are  not  susceptible  of  remedy.  We  are  thus  guarded  against  doing 
harm ; whilst  the  unprincipled  charlatan,  having  no  such  check  on  his 
presumption,  administers  powerful  drugs  (for  they  are  not  remedies)  in 
complete  ignorance  of  the  nature  of  the  malady,  and  thus  precipitates 
his  victim  into  the  grave,  or,  what  is  worse,  aggravates  his  sufferings, 
during  the  remainder  of  his  life  ! 

Death,  from  the  climacteric  malady,  is  generally  easy — and  often  sud- 
den, at  last.  As  will  be  shewn  farther  on,  it  is,  as  nearly  as  possible, 
the  death  of  Nature,  which  is  always  easy — antedated,  indeed,  a few 
years,  as  to  time,  and  considerably  abridged  as  to  duration.  There  is 
here  no  violent  struggle  between  a sound  constitution  and  an  accidental 
illness.  It  is  like  the  crumbling  down,  stone  after  stone,  of  an  ancient 
castle,  compared  with  the  demolition  of  the  same  edifice,  at  an  earlier 
period,  by  catapultse  or  cannon.  As  the  mantling  ivy  procrastinates 
the  fate  of  the  tottering  tower ; so,  change  of  air  and  scene,  with  the 
mildest  restoratives,  will  sometimes  prolong  the  existence  of  the  droop- 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


20  0 

ing*  human  fabric,  and  add  a zest  to  the  cup  of  enjoyment  till  the  bowl 
of  life  is  drained  ! 

But  the  climacteric  disease  is  not  the  only,  or  even  the  chief  malady 
of  the  Ninth  Septenniad.  Before  this  period,  the  balance  of  the  con- 
stitution begins  to  be  materially  altered,  and  the  head  encounters  many 
dangers,  not  only  from  its  own  vessels,  but  from  the  affections  of  other 
organs,  especially  the  heart  and  the  stomach.  Apoplexy  and  paralysis, 
therefore,  are  more  common  in  this,  than  in  any  preceding — or  perhaps 
succeeding  epoch  of  existence.*  It  is  now  that  the  man  of  letters,  the 
statesman,  the  lawyer — all  who  have  worked  or  over- worked  the  intel- 
lect, for  years,  may  dread  the  failure  of  its  material  organ.  It  was  in 
this  Septenniad  that  the  “ Great  Unknown,”  whose  mental  lucubra- 
tions surprised  and  delighted  a hundred  millions  of  the  human  race, 
experienced  the  break-up  of  that  brain,  by  excessive  labour,  which  might 
otherwise  have  sustained  the  wear  and  tear  of  moderate  avocation,  for 
many  years  longer  ! Grief  and  chagrin,  no  doubt,  accelerated  the  fatal 
event.  The  magician’s  death  may  prove  a warning  to  his  survivors, 
not  to  expect  too  much  from  a mechanism  so  delicately  constructed  as 
the  material  organ  of  the  mind.f 

Gout,  too,  having  disabled  or  deformed  the  feet  and  hands,  begins  to 
shew  inclination  to  attack  more  vital  parts — and,  very  often,  this  child 
of  luxury  and  intemperance  turns  parricide  at  last,  and  destroys  the 
author  of  its  own  existence  ! It  is  now  too  late  to  think  of  expelling 
this  offspring  of  indolence  and  epicurean  indulgence,  by  exercise  and 
abstemiousness.  The  ingrate  has  his  victim  in  his  power,  and  may  be 
soothed,  but  not  bullied.  Thousands  are  annually  hurried  to  their  graves 


* I have  placed  it,  however,  at  the  close  of  the  eighth  Septenniad  (at  the  age  of 
55  or  6)  as  a period  when  it  often  appears. 

t Sir  Walter  Scott’s  tour  to  Italy  was  ill-timed  and  ill-managed.  Worn  down  by 
inordinate  mental  labour,  and  depressed  by  pecuniary  losses  of  no  mean  kind,  the 
excitement  of  Italy  was  far  too  great.  Had  he  travelled  in  cheerful  company  through 
the  sublime  scenes  of  Switzerland,  his  health  might  have  been  recruited,  and  his 
brain  composed  to  rest.  Italy  was  the  very  worst  place  he  could  have  visited  in  his 
state  of  health — and  the  result  was — apoplexy,  and  slow  destruction  by  its  sequence, 
paralysis  ! 

Byron  undermined  his  health  by  excitement,  though  his  premature  death  was 
occasioned  by  his  own  obstinacy  in  resisting  necessary  depletion,  when  overtaken  by 
a high  degree  of  inflammation  of  brain  and  lungs  ! He  had  too  much  confidence  in 
himself,  and  too  little  in  his  medical  attendant. 


DISAPPOINTMENTS  OF  RETIREMENT. 


20/ 


by  the  ignorant  practice  of  charlatans  who  pretend  to  cure  gout  at  this 
advanced  period  of  life,  by  potent  medicines  that  destroy  the  material 
tenement  in  the  vain  attempt  to  dislodge  the  enemy  by  force,  instead  of 
persuasion. 

At  the  age  of  60,  the  merchant,  the  lawyer,  the  physician — the  wrhole 
of  the  Bureaucracy,  begin  to  find  that  labour  is  not  such  a pleasure  as  it 
was  twenty  years  previously.  They  love  money  as  much  as  ever  they 
did,  but  the  pursuit  of  it  is  not  quite  so  delightful.  Then  it  is,  that  they 
long  for  retirement  in  the  country,  and  begin  to  quarrel  wdth  the  smoke, 
and  dust,  and  foul  air  of  the  city  and  town.  They  purchase  their  villa  ; 
and,  for  a short  time,  they  are  amused  with  the  arrangements  and  im- 
provements going  on  around  them.  Do  they  remain  contented  ? The 
Roman  bard  has  answered  that  question,  nearly  twro  thousand  years 
ago. 

“ Amo  Tibur  Romae — ventoso  Tibure  Romam.” 

In  London,  the  distant  tranquillity  of  the  country  seems  a foretaste  of 
Paradise.  The  haven  is  found  ; — but  rural  quietude  soon  begins  to  wrear 
the  aspect  of  irksome  solitude — and  solitude  proves  to  the  mind  wrhat 
starvation  is  to  the  body.  The  pabulum  of  existence  seems  to  be  with- 
drawn from  the  citizen’s  mind,  and  he  longs  for  the  excitement,  the 
bustle,  and  the  stimulation  of  the  metropolis  ! This  is  not  the  discon- 
tent of  each  with  his  lot,  wrhich  Horace  alludes  to,  in  liis  celebrated  ode. 
It  is  the  result  of  a physiological,  and  not  a psychological  principle. 
The  habits  of  forty  years  cannot  be  changed,  w’ith  impunity,  at  the 
Grand  Climacteric.  It  is  then  too  late — and  it  is  then  too  early.  Too 
late,  to  acquire  new  habits — too  early  to  renounce  old  ones — the  de- 
crepitude of  age  not  having  then  arrived.  But  as  it  is  very  clear  that 
the  climacteric  period  is  a period  of  transition,  so  it  would  be  wdse  to 
make  the  change  from  activity  to  retirement  one  of  gradual,  not  abrupt 
transition.  Inattention  to  this  has  been  the  rock  on  which  many  a 
valuable  life  has  been  wrrecked — and  the  cause  of  much  happiness  being 
turned  into  misery.  Retirement,  even  at  the  close  of  the  ninth  Sep- 
tenniad,  requires  resources  which  few  minds,  accustomed  to  the  turmoil 
of  active  life,  possess.  Even  the  pursuits  of  literature  are  feeble 
substitutes  for  the  previous  avocations — unless  there  be  something  to 
write  as  well  as  to  read.  The  passive  amusement  which  works  of  fancy 
afford,  in  the  perusal,  will  not  always  keep  off  ennui — nor  will  books 
demanding  close  attention  of  the  mind,  compensate  for  the  strenuous 


208 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


exertion  which  that  mind  had  undergone  for  many  years  in  laborious  or 
arduous  professions.  The  mind  then  is  unequal  to  such  a task. 

About  the  period  of  the  Grand  Climacteric,  various  moral  and  physical 
causes  combine  to  produce  a considerable  depression  of  spirits,  often 
amounting  to  a degree  of  melancholy.  The  decline  of  our  corporeal 
powers  would  alone  induce  more  or  less  of  this  dejection  of  mind ; but 
there  are  many  other  causes.  Very  few  pass  the  sixtieth  year,  without 
experiencing  great  tribulations  and  disappointments,  however  prosperous 
may  have  been  their  worldly  affairs.  They  must  have  lost  fathers, 
mothers,  brothers,  sisters,  children — and  a great  majority  of  their  nearest 
and  dearest  friends,  as  well  as  of  their  oldest  and  best-remembered  ac- 
quaintances ! The  farther  we  advance  on  Time’s  list,  the  more  numerous 
become  these  mementos  of  our  own  doom ; — and  reflection  on  the  daily 
ebb  of  human  existence  around  us,  cannot  fail  to  cast  a settled  gloom, 
however  slight,  over  the  prospect  in  advance ! 

This  natural  and  inevitable  depression  of  spirits  is  greatly  aggravated 
by  the  sudden  transition  from  activity  to  idleness,  in  retirement  from 
avocation,  whatever  that  avocation  may  have  been.  Many  examples  of 
this  kind  have  come  within  my  knowledge — some  of  them  tragical — 
some  ludicrous — and  some  tragi-comic.  There  are  few  who  cannot  call 
to  mind  instances  of  this  description.  I shall  only  allude  to  one. 

A gentleman,  of  great  talent  and  industry,  who  had  amassed  a princely 
fortune  in  an  honourable  profession,  and  established  an  enviable  reputa- 
tion, said  to  himself,  as  he  closed  his  sixtieth  year ; — “ Now  is  the  time, 
when  my  riches  are  ample,  my  faculties  unclouded,  my  health  unim- 
paired, to  retire  from  the  turmoil  of  business,  and  spend  the  rest  of  my 
days  among  woods  and  lawns,  meadows  and  cornfields,  with  Nature 
smiling  round  me,  and  the  air  itself  carrying  the  balm  of  salubrity  on  its 
wings.”— ^The  suggestion  was  quickly  put  into  execution.  A magnifi- 
cent villa,  ample  park,  and  beautiful  pleasure-grounds  soon  owned  a 
new  master.  The  honeymoon  of  rustic  life  and  rural  felicity  glided 
smoothly  away,  in  viewing  his  domain  and  receiving  visits  from  the 
neighbouring  gentry.  He  often  exclaimed  in  the  words  of  the  poet — 

How  bless’d  the  man  who  crowns,  in  shades  like  these, 

A youth  of  labour  with  an  age  of  ease  ! 

But,  in  a few  months,  he  began  to  feel  that  he  wanted  something, 
though  he  knew  not  what.  Like  JMiranda,  on  the  enchanted  island, 
there  was  a link  deficient  in  the  chain  of  contentment.  And  what  was 


DISAPPOINTMENTS  OF  RETIREMENT. 


209 


this  undefined  something?  It  was  the  “ flattering  unction  ’ which,  for 
thirty  years,  had  been  daily  applied  to  the  soul  by  dependents,  clients, 
friends,  and  the  public.  For  this,  the  luxuries  of  the  table,  the  sports 
of  the  field,  and  the  beauties  of  Nature,  could  not  offer  a substitute. 
The  incense  that  is  long  poured  out  at  the  shrine  of  Fame — no  matter 
how  high  or  low  the  station  in  life — from  the  mean  mechanic  up  to  the 
inspired  bard — becomes,  in  time,  as  necessary  to  the  happiness  of  the 
mind,  as  food  is  essential  to  the  existence  of  the  body.  This  principle 
was  overlooked,  or  not  understood  by  the  talented  individual  in  ques- 
tion ; but  it  did  not  fail  the  less  to  operate.  Another  element,  soon 
afterwards,  came  into  play.  The  novelty  of  the  rural  scene  wore  out, 
notwithstanding  the  excursions  into  the  neighbouring  districts — and 
satiety  was  the  consequence.  But  satiety,  to  a mind  long  accustomed 
to  activity  or  adulation,  rests  not  stationary.  It  passes  into  disgust — 
too  often  into  despair.*  The  stately  oaks  of  the  park,  instead  of  ex- 
citing sensations  of  pride  and  pleasure,  suggested  at  length,  the  horrible 
idea  of  suicide  ! Had  not  a prudent,  and  somewhat  precipitate  retire- 
ment, from  the  country  to  the  city,  been  effected,  it  is  highly  probable 
that  the  lord  of  the  manor  would,  ere  long,  have  been  found  suspended 
from  one  of  his  own  trees  ! He  tugs  at  the  oar  to  this  hour,  though 
he  has  rounded  his  70th  Winter — not  for  love  of  lucre,  but  from  fear  of 
ennui. f 

This  principle,  propensity,  or  whatever  it  may  be  called,  extends  even 
to  the  brute  creation. % It  is  not  a disease  in  itself,  but  it  leads  to  dis- 
ease, and  even  to  death.  It  is  a kind  of  nostalgia.  The  Swiss  longs 
to  return  to  his  mountains — the  merchant  to  his  counting-house — the 
lawyer  to  his  briefs — the  physician  to  his  patients — the  shop-keeper  to 
his  counter — the  banker  to  his  balance-sheet — the  broker  to  the  ex- 


* Reflection,  too,  for  which  the  active  man,  in  full  employment,  has  little  leisure, 
becomes,  in  retirement,  a source  of  misery.  The  mind  dwells  on  the  sombre  scenes 
of  declining  life,  and  has  not  the  means  of  escaping  from  its  own  melancholy  antici- 
pations amid  the  bustle  of  human  intercourse  ! 

t This  portrait  has  been  applied  to  an  eminent  medical  personage.  It  was  not 
drawn  from  any  individual  in  the  medical  profession,  though  probably  it  may  apply 
to  several. — 2d  Ed. 

X The  dog,  the  cat,  every  domesticated  animal,  pines  on  being  removed  from  it* 
accustomed  locality  and  acquaintances.  So  does  the  wild  animal  on  being  intro- 
duced to  civilization  and  refinement.  The  tiger  and  the  vulture  would  infinitely 
prefer  the  putrid  carcase  of  a buffaloe,  amid  the  jungles  of  the  Sunderbunds,  to  * 
choice  leg  of  mutton  in  the  Zoological  Gardens. 


210 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


change — the  pensioner  to  place — the  minister  to  the  cabinet — and  per- 
haps, the  cidevant  monarch  to  the  abdicated  crown.  In  line,  almost 
every  human  being  who  retires  from  his  avocation  or  pursuit,  in  the 
ninth  Septenniad,  may  calculate  on  experiencing  more  or  less  of  the 
nostalgic  yearning,  which  will  diminish  his  anticipated  happiness,  and 
probably  curtail  the  duration  of  life. 

These  observations,  founded  on  some  knowledge  of  mankind,  may 
not  be  unworthy  of  consideration  by  a large  class  of  society  in  this 
country.  The  amount  of  misery  produced  by  a false  estimate  of  the 
“ otium  cum  digniiate,”  is  very  great  indeed.  Man  is  fond  of  variety ; 
but  Nature  abhors  sudden  change.  In  the  transition  from  a life  of 
labour  to  an  age  of  ease,  business  and  retirement  ought  to  be  dove- 
tailed, and  the  line  of  demarcation  between  the  two  should  never  be 
abrupt.  In  many  cases,  it  is  less  safe  to  leave  business  than  to  allow 
business  to  leave  us.  The  latter  is  mortifying  ; but  the  mortification  is 
salutary,  because  it  corrects  a greater  evil  than  it  creates. 

As  it  is  in  the  ninth  Septenniad  that  we  perceive  the  most  unequi- 
vocal mementos  of  declining  life,  so  it  is  in  that  period  that  we  begin 
seriously  to  review  the  past,  and  meditate  on  the  future.  The  retros- 
pective and  prospective  views  are  anything  but  cheering.  Often  before 
this  epoch,  we  hear  and  repeat  the  exclamation  of  Solomon — “ all  is 
vanity  and  vexation” — but  it  is  now  that  we  reflect  on  it,  and  acknow- 
ledge its  truth  ! When  we  look  back  as  far  as  memory  can  stretch,  we 
are  forced  to  admit  that  our  toils  have  been  inadequately  rewarded  in 
general,  and  were  often  fruitless — that  our  hopes  have  seldom  been 
realized,  and  were  always  alloyed  by  our  fears  and  disappointments — 
in  fine,  that,  if  our  pains  and  our  pleasures,  our  privations  and  enjoy- 
ments were  put  into  the  scales,  the  balance  would  be  against  the  latter ! 
And  if  this  be  the  case  when  we  have  youth,  and  strength  and  spirits 
on  our  side,  what  have  we  to  expect,  when  the  energies  of  the  consti- 
tution are  fast  ebbing — when  infirmities  are  taking  their  place — when 
the  relish  for  every  enjoyment  is  gradually  fading  away — in  short,  wThen 
all  (or  nearly  all)  the  blandishments  of  life  are  gone ! Were  it  not  for 
strong  moral  motives,  and  still  stronger  instinctive  impulses,  aided  by 
religious  feelings,  man,  at  this  stage  of  the  journey,  wrould  be  apt  to 
sink  into  apathy,  if  not  despair.  But  he  cannot  pause  in  his  progress 
to  the  final  goal ; on  the  contrary,  he  appears  to  proceed  with  an  in- 
creased impetus.  Hope,  too,  never  entirely  deserts  the  human  breast 


RETROSPECTIVE  AND  PROSPECTIVE  VIEWS. 


211 


— and  always  sheds  a gleam  of  sunshine  over  the  darkest  scenes  of  ad- 
versity. Yet  even  this  “ angel  of  life”  would  not  enable  the  most 
Stoic  philosopher  to  view  the  last  sad  stage  of  human  existence,  with 
much  serenity  of  mind.  No  ! Religion  only — the  Christian  hope  of 
immortality  in  another  world,  can  alone  fortify  man  against  the  ills  of 
this.  It  is  through  the  influence  of  Religion  that  man  can  bear  with 
patience,  and  even  cheerfulness,  the  infirmities  of  age,  and  contemplate, 
without  terror,  that  awful  and  mysterious  transition  to  another  state  of 
being,  through  the  agonies  of  death,  the  corruption  of  the  grave,  and 
the  resurrection  of  the  body  !* 


* Determined  suicides  (reason  being  perfect)  were  infinitely  more  prevalent  under 
the  influence  of  the  Heathen  Mythology  than  under  the  Christian  dispensation.  In 
the  former  case,  not  one  of  the  warriors  who  rushed  upon  their  swords,  or  the 
philosophers  who  swallowed  hemlock,  believed  in  the  popular  religion — if  religion 
it  could  be  called.  In  the  latter  case,  the  very  few  who  destroy  themselves  are 
either  sceptics  or  maniacs.  Mr.  Whitbread,  Sir  S.  Romilly,  Lord  Castlereagh,  among 
others,  laboured  under  congestion  or  some  vascular  affections  of  the  head,  when 
they  committed  suicide.  Not  so,  perhaps,  Cato,  Pompey,  and  Cleopatra.  Since 
the  French  revolution,  when  death  was  determined  by  the  National  Assembly  to  be 
“everlasting  sleep,”  our  Gallic  neighbours  have  often  imitated  the  heathen  philoso- 
phers, and  wooed  the  grave  as  a refuge  from  real  or  imaginary  woes  ! Although  the 
population  of  Paris  is  little  more  than  half  that  of  London,  the  number  of  annual 
suicides  there  is  more  than  double  the  number  that  occur  on  the  banks  of  the 
Thames.  The  deduction  is  obvious. 


212 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH, 


TENTH  SEPTENNIAD, 

[63  to  70.] 


This  is  apparently  the  sixth  age  of  Shakespeare. 

The  sixth  age  shifts 
Into  the  lean  and  slipper’d  pantaloon, 

With  spectacles  on  nose  and  pouch  on  side  -r 
His  youthful  hose  well  sav’d,  a world  too  wide 
For  his  shrunk  shank — and  his  big  manly  voice 
Turning  again  toward  childish  treble,  pipes 
And  whistles  in  his  sound. 

Now  if  the  Bard  of  Avon  had  taken  Solomon’s  calculation  for  his 
text,  viz.  the  “ three  score  years  and  ten  — this  ought  to  have  been  his 
seventh  age,  or  “ last  scene  of  all.”  But  it  is  impossible  to  reconcile 
Shakespeare  with  Solomon — nor  is  the  poet’s  description  very  easily 
reconciled  with  any  computation  of  the  life  of  man,  whether  by  sep- 
tenniads  or  decenniads.  It  is  very  certain  that  Shakespeare’s  sixth  age 
does  not  accurately  correspond  with  the  last  seven  years  of  life  accord- 
ing to  Solomon’s  calculation.  The  above  description  would  be  quite 
strong  enough  for  the  seven  years  that  succeed  the  “ three  score  and 
ten.”  The  very  survival  of  the  “ Grand  Climacteric”  without  any  spe- 
cific or  mortal  malady  having  presented  itself  at  that  epoch,  argues  an 
originally  sound  constitution ; and  whatever  the  actuaries  may  say,  I 
believe  that  the  Tenth,  or  last  Septenniad  of  the  Solomonian  computa- 
tion is  more  secure  from  casualties  than  the  First,  or  infantile  Septen- 
niad. At  birth,  we  are  exposed  to  a host  of  known  and  unknown 
diseases  which  snap  the  tender  thread  of  life  at  a fearful  rate.  From 
sixty-three  to  seventy,  we  are  exposed  to  rather  less  than  the  ordinary 
wear  and  tear  of  life,  together  with  those  natural  organic  changes  which 
ultimately  stop  the  wheels  of  the  machine,  no  doubt,  but  which  are 
productive  of  little  additional  embarrassment  during  the  last  of  the  ten 
Septenniads. 

According  to  our  experience  at  present,  the  sixth  age  of  Shakespeare 
would  apply  to  the  Eleventh  rather  than  to  the  Tenth  Septenniad — 
and  his  seventh  age  is  now  only  seen  in  extreme  senectitude — say  at  80 
years  and  upwards.  No  such  thing  as  “ second  childishness  and  mere 


PORTRAIT  OF  OLD  AG£ MARLBRO’  AND  SWIFT.  213 

oblivion”  occurs  at  70,  or  even  75,  unless  from  disease  or  idiotism. 
Some  solution  of  this  may  be  found  in  the  fact  that,  even  since  the  days 
of  Shakespeare,  the  value  of  life  (to  use  the  language  of  the  insurance 
offices)  has  increased  at  least  seven  years  : — that  is  to  say,  the  probable 
duration  of  life  is  seven  years  longer  now  than  it  was  two  centuries  ago, 
in  this  country.  The  calculations  may  have  been  erroneous,  in  days  of 
yore,  for  want  of  accurate  data ; but  still,  there  is  every  probability  that 
longevity  is  increased  within  the  last  two  centuries. 

In  respect  to  Solomon’s  computation,  it  is  perfectly  well  known  that, 
in  hot  climates,  and  especially  in  the  eastern  wrorld,  the  average  duration 
of  human  existence  is  at  least  seven  years  below  the  average  of  northern 
regions.  This,  indeed,  is  not  admitted  by  the  learned  Dr.  Prichard,  in 
his  erudite  physical  history  of  mankind  ; but  the  doctor  had  a theory  to 
support  by  the  doctrine  of  equality  of  life  all  over  the  world,  and 
probably  leaned  a little  too  far  to  those  facts  that  favoured  his  own  hypo- 
thesis. 

The  changes  which  occur  in  the  Tenth  Septenniad,  are  perhaps  less 
remarkable  than  in  either  of  the  two  preceding  epochs,  whether  we  re- 
gard the  observations  of  the  spectator  or  the  feelings  of  the  individual. 
The  functions,  however,  continue  to  diminish  progressively  in  activity — 
the  bones  become  more  dry  and  brittle — the  cartilages  more  bony — the 
muscles  more  rigid — the  various  circulating  fluids  more  slow  in  their 
current — their  channels  less  elastic — the  valves  of  the  heart  more  or  less 
indurated — the  great  arteries  partially  ossified — the  circulation  of  the 
blood  feeble  and  irregular,  or  too  strong  for  the  vessels,  according  as  the 
heart  is  in  a state  of  atrophy  or  morbid  enlargement — the  joints  get  stiff 
and  sometimes  contracted — the  head  droops  forward,  from  absorption  of 
the  intervertebral  substance — the  skin  becomes  more  and  more  wrinkled, 
from  the  general  shrinking  of  the  whole  body — the  eyes  sink  deeper  in 
their  sockets,  and  become  flatter,  requiring  glasses  of  augmenting  powers 
— the  humours  of  the  eye  are  less  limpid,  and  the  lustre  is  gone — what 
remains  of  the  hair  is  now  white,  or  even  silvery — the  tears  flow  from  the 
slightest  mental  emotion  or  external  irritation* — the  appetite  loses  all  its 


* It  is  generally  later  than  the  Tenth  Septenniad,  but  not  very  unfrequentiy  even 
in  it,  that  we  see  the  melancholy,  clever,  but  unfeeling  and  sarcastic  portrait  of 
Blenheim’s  hero,  and  Ireland’s  pride,  as  drawn  by  S.  Johnson. 

“ From  Mari.bro’s  eyes  the  streams  of  dotage  flow, 

And  Swift  expires  a driveller  and  a shew.” 


214 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


keenness,  and  the  power  of  digestion  is  greatly  impaired,  because  little 
is  now  necessary  to  recruit  the  trifling  daily  waste  of  the  corporeal 
fabric — the  secretions  and  excretions  are  (with  certain  exceptions) 
diminished  to  one-half  their  former  amount,  in  consequence  of  the  inac- 
tivity of  the  organs,  and  the  slender  inlay  of  nutriment — the  relish  for 
all  enjoyments,  intellectual  and  bodily,  fades  slowly  away,  and  is 
forgotten,  or  remembered  with  a sigh — the  sockets  of  the  teeth  being 
absorbed,  the  teeth  themselves  drop  out,  and  that  singular  feature  of 
senility,  the  approximation  of  the  nose  and  chin,  becomes  painfully  con- 
spicuous to  the  byestander  !* *  The  sensibility  of  the  whole  nervous 
system  (including  the  five  special  senses),  grows  more  and  more  blunt, 
and  impressions  are  less  and  less  distinct — the  brain  itself  grows  smaller, 
often  of  softer  consistence — and  the  skull  experiences  changes  in  its 
external  form — the  limbs  lose  all  their  agility,  and  muscular  motion  is 
slow  and  often  painful — the  ancles  swell — drowsiness  is  common,  espe- 
cially after  food ; but  sleep  in  the  night  is  short  and  imperfect,  arising, 
no  doubt,  in  a great  degree,  from  the  inability  to  take  sufficient  exercise. f 


It  was  not  fair,  in  Johnson,  to  class  these  two  illustrious  individuals  together. 
Marlbro’s  infirmity  was  the  natural  effect  of  age — Swift’s  was  that  of  disease— of 
idiotcy.  Cowper’s  end  was  still  more  deplorable,  because  his  monomaniacal  illusion 
was  religious  despair,  than  which  there  is  not  a more  horrible  infliction  on  humanity  ! 
The  materialist’s  horror  of  annihilation  is  bad  enough,  but  Cowper’s  conviction  that 
soul  and  body  would  be  broiled  to  all  eternity  in  sulphureous  flames,  was  a hell 
upon  earth — happily  annihilated  by  the  kind  hand  of  death  ! It  was  a great  pity  that 
Cowper’s  spiritual  advisers  had  not  a foretaste  of  this  insane  incineration  by  a plunge 
into  a bath  at  150°  of  Fahrenheit ! Most  richly  did  they  deserve  it. 

* The  premature  decay  of  the  teeth  in  our  own  times,  as  compared  with  even  fifty 
years  ago,  must  have  arrested  the  attention  of  most  observers.  For  many  years  I 
have  been  endeavouring  to  form  some  calculation  of  the  difference,  and  to  account 
for  its  causes.  1 cannot  say  that  I have  been  successful  in  either  case.  Suppose  out 
of  a large  assembly  of  people  we  were  to  select  the  first  hundred  that  had  attained 
the  age  of  50  years — and  then  a hundred  who  had  attained  the  age  of  30  years.  I 
think  we  would  find  as  many  teeth  in  the  heads  of  the  seniors  as  in  the  heads  of  the 
juniors.  This  ought  not  to  be.  There  must  be  some  cause  or  causes.  The  change 
of  habits  and  manners — the  increase  of  sedentary  and  manufacturing  employments, 
may  have  done  something.  The  indiscriminate  use  or  abuse  of  calomel,  especially 
among  children,  since  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  may  have  proved  no 
unimportant  cause  of  what  a clever  American  dentist  of  this  metropolis  calls 
“ devastation  of  the  gums.”  The  people  of  the  United  States  are  remarkably 
prone  to  early  loss  of  teeth.  It  is  well  known  that  they  swallow  enormous  doses  of 
calomel  on  all  occasions. 

f It  may  be  laid  down  as  a pretty  certain  rule  that,  in  each  Septenniad  of  human 
life,  the  length  of  time  absorbed  in  sleep  gradually  diminishes.  In  early  infancy 


PORTRAIT  OF  OLD  AGE. 


215 


The  mucous  membranes  of  the  eyes  and  air-passages  become  relaxed 
and  turgid,  effusing  tears  from  the  former,  and  phlegm  from  the  latter ; 
hence  the  watery  eye,  dripping  nose,  and  wheezing  respiration.  The 
septuagenarian,  or  rather  the  octogenarian,  then,  to  use  the  poet’s 
phrase — 

“ Pipes  and  whistles  in  his  sound.” 

These  are  among  the  chief  physical  phenomena  which  become  con- 
spicuous at  the  close  of  the  Tenth  Septenniad,  and  augment  in  intensity, 
during  the  remaining  span  of  existence — an  indefinite  period,  beyond  the 
reach  of  human  calculation.  Sombre  as  is  the  portrait  here  drawn  of 
the  decline  of  life,  it  is  a favourable  one,  because  it  presupposes  an  origi- 
nally sound  constitution,  and  the  non-abuse  of  it  by  vice  or  intemperance. 
But,  unfortunately,  very  few  can  expect  to  glide  down  into  the  vale  of 
years  in  this  natural,  and  comparatively  easy  manner.  Nine  in  ten  of 
those  who  touch  or  pass  the  70th  year,  bring  with  them  some  thorn  to 
aggravate  the  inevitable  evils  of  life’s  last  stage  ! It  is  now,  when  too 
late,  that  the  septuagenarian  bewails  the  excesses  of  youth,  and  the 
useless  anxieties  as  well  as  inordinate  labours  or  culpable  indolence  of 
middle  age  ! These,  he  finds,  have  entailed  on  him  a long  catalogue  of 
maladies,  in  addition  to  his  natural  infirmities  ! On  the  other  hand,  the 
individual  who  has  led  a life  of  temperance,  morality,  and  activity,  is 
now  rewarded  by  a green  old  age,  in  which  the  decay  of  the  powers  is 
so  slow  as  to  be  almost  imperceptible,  and  the  penalties  of  Nature  so 


more  than  three  fourths  of  our  hours  are  passed  in  profound  repose — scarcely  dis- 
turbed by  a dream.  In  manhood,  about  one  third — in  old  age  scarcely  a fourth  of 
the  24  hours  is  consigned  to  balmy  sleep.  There  is  a vulgar  and  erroneous  notion 
that  old  people  sleep  almost  as  much  as  infants.  They  doze  away  a good  deal  of  that 
time  which  is  dedicated  to  exercise  or  amusement  among  the  young  and  middle- 
aged — but  it  is  not  sleep,  and,  in  the  night  they  pass  many  dreary  hours  in  watchful- 
ness or  unrefreshing  slumbers  ! This  is  one  of  the  greatest  taxes  on  old  age,  and 
severely  is  it  felt  ! 

“ Sleep,  that  knits  up  the  ravelled  sleeve  of  care, 

The  death  of  each  day’s  life,  sore  labour’s  bath, 

Balm  of  hurt  minds,  great  Nature’s  second  course, 

Chief  nourisher  in  life’s  feast,” 

is  often  invoked,  but  seldom  kindly  descends  upon  the  aged  eyes  ! The  bad  habits 
of  late  hours  and  midnight  studies  or  dissipation,  so  often  indulged  in  the  early  and 
middle  periods  of  life,  tend  greatly  to  sleeplessness  in  our  declining  years.  Those 
who  have  long  repulsed  the  drowsy  God  from  their  doors,  when  he  paid  his  voluntary 
visits,  will  find  it  difficult  to  entice  him  back  when  they  are  anxious  for  his  favours. 
— 2d  Ed. 


216 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


mild  as  scarcely  to  call  forth  a murmur ! The  final  decline  of  life,  in- 
deed, is  a kind  of  protracted  “ climacteric  disease,”  in  which  all  the 
organs  appear  to  wear  down  with  such  evenness,  that  hardly  any  specific 
complaint  is  made  or  felt  by  the  individual.  The  whole  machine  volun- 
tarily ceases  to  move,  rather  than  experiences  any  violence  in  the 
stoppage  of  the  wheels. 

If  we  turn  from  the  physique  to  the  morale,  we  shall  find  a corres  • 
ponding  decadence  as  we  verge  towards  the  end  of  life’s  long  journey. 
As  the  tenth  Septenniad  advances,  the  stormy  passions  of  youth  and 
manhood  subside  into  a state  of  tranquillity,  calm  as  the  unruffled  surface 
of  the  lake.  Love  has  long  taken  his  departure,  leaving  affection  as 
his  frigid,  but  friendly  substitute.  Ambition,  if  a shadow  of  it  remain, 
has  now  little  else  to  do  than  ruminate  on  the  giddy  and  dangerous 
heights  which  it  has  climbed — perhaps  the  rugged  precipices  over  which 
it  has  been  hurled  ! The  pillar  of  ambition  may  be  as  broad  at  the  base 
as  a hemisphere  of  this  globe,  and  constructed  of  materials  as  firm  as 
the  molten  arms  of  conquered  nations ; but  the  proud  figure  on  the 
summit  is  in  more  peril  than 

“ The  ship-boy  on  the  high  and  giddy  mast,” 
when  the  tall  fabric  bends  and  cracks  over  the  boiling  surge  in  the  mid- 
night tempest.  The  ample  page  of  history  is  fraught  with  illustrations  ; 
but  these  are  all  cast  in  the  shade  by  the  stupendous  dispensation  of  our 
own  times — the  sun  of  Austerlitz,  Friedland,  and  Marengo,  hurled  from 
his  high  meridian  throne,  and  plunged  into  the  dark  Atlantic  wave — never 
to  rise  again ! 

Avarice — sordid,  selfish  avarice,  still  grasps,  with  clenched  and  flesh- 
less fingers,  the  bag  that  holds  the  darling  pelf — a grasp  so  firm  as 
scarcely  to  relax  under  the  agonies  of  death  !*  But  the  possession  of 


* In  excavating  Pompeii,  a skeleton  was  found  with  the  fingers  clenched  round  a 
quantity  of  money ! A very  remarkable  example  presented  itself  to  the  Author 
while  this  sheet  was  passing  through  the  press.  An  octogenarian,  worth  more 
than  a hundred  thousand  pounds — sinking  under  a complication  of  fatal  organic 
diseases,  sent  for  the  Author,  and,  after  dwelling  for  a few  minutes  on  his  corporeal 
afflictions,  broke  out  in  a strain  of  lamentation  on  the  loss  of  two  thousand  pounds 
by  a recent  fire  on  his  extensive  premises  ! He  remarked  that  it  was  of  little  use  to 
prescribe  for  the  disease  of  the  body,  unless  I could  cure  its  cause — the  anguish  of 
his  mind!  I quoted  to  him  the  reply  of  the  Physician  to  Macbeth;  but  that  afforded 
him  no  consolation.  I then  repeated  the  celebrated  passage  from  Shakespeare, 


CONSOLATIONS  OF  OLD  AGE. 


21/ 


wealth  (the  only  enjoyment  which  the  miser  experiences)  begins  to  lose 
its  relish  in  the  vale  of  years,  and  the  very  sight  of  his  gold  reminds 
the  wretch  of  the  approaching  separation  from  all  that  he  holds  dear. 
The  last  of  the  master-passions  floats  like  a wreck  on  the  ocean  of  de- 
clining life,  till  it  becomes  a scarcely  visible  speck,  and  ultimately 
disappears ! 

Thus  then,  with  appetites  diminished,  desires  decayed,  passions  sub- 
dued, and  infirmities  accumulating,  what  has  man  to  attract  him  to  this 
world,  or  to  regret  at  leaving  it  ? Little  ! — But  that  little  is,  to  him,  a 
great  deal.  It  is  in  poverty  that  we  prize  riches — in  sickness,  health. 
And  so  it  is  chiefly  when  we  approach  the  final  goal  of  existence  that 
we  fully  appreciate  the  just  value  of  life  ! 

“ Though  dull  the  close  of  life,  and  far  away, 

Each  flower  that  hail’d  the  dawning  of  the  day  ; 

Yet  o’er  her  lovely  hopes,  that  once  were  dear. 

The  time- taught  spirit,  pensive  not  severe, 

With  milder  griefs  her  aged  eye  shall  fill. 

And  weep  their  falsehood,  though  she  love  them  still !” 

It  may  be  fairly  doubted,  indeed,  whether  the  balance  of  happiness 
is  much  against  the  septuagenarian,  and  in  favour  of  earlier  Septenniads. 
In  this  late  stage  of  the  journey,  our  wants,  and  even  our  wishes  are  few, 
and  easily  satisfied.  If  early  life  has  been  spent  in  honest  industry  and 
temperance,  our  declining  years  will  be  little  annoyed  by  the  natural 
penalties  of  age.  We  then  hear  the  tempests  of  ambition  and  the  other 
turbulent  passions  rolling  over  our  heads,  and  hurling  their  victims  into 
the  abysses  of  misery  or  crime,  while  we  are  sheltered  from  the  storm  in 
the  lowly  vale.  What  says  the  poet  Campbell  ? 

“ Hail  welcome  tide  of  life,  when  no  tumultuous  billows  roll. 

How  wond’rous  to  myself  appears  this  halcyon  calm  of  soul  ! 

The  wearied  bird  blown  o’er  the  deep  would  sooner  quit  its  shore, 

Than  I would  cross  the  gulf  again  that  time  has  brought  me  o’er.” 


“ Who  steals  my  purse,  steals  trash — ’tis  something — nothing — 

’Twas  mine — ’tis  his,  and  may  be  slave  to  thousands  ; — 

But  he  who  filches  from  me  my  good  name, 

Robs  me  of  that  which  not  enriches  him, 

But  makes  me  poor  indeed  !” 

I asked  him  if  he  had  lost  his  credit, — his  reputation, — his  honour? — He  raised 
himself  with  animation  on  his  couch,  and,  squeezing  my  hand,  exclaimed,  “ No ! 
all  that  is  safe — no  stain  attaches  to  my  name  as  a merchant  in  the  City  of  London.” 
I left  him  under  this  transient  impression  of  pride — but  probably  it  did  not  bear  him 
long  up. 

P.S.  He  died  soon  afterwards,  and  left  an  ample  fortune  to  his  children, — 2 d Ed. 

F f 


218 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


Pleasures  do  not  constitute  felicity,  nor  pains  misery.  Many  who  are 
capable  of  enjoying,  and  do  actually  possess,  the  luxuries  of  this  world, 
are  wretched  in  the  midst  of  plenty  ; while  others,  who  are  buffeted  by 
misfortunes,  deprived  of  comforts,  and  harassed  with  bodily  sufferings, 
are  resigned,  contented,  and  comparatively  happy  ! The  cause  of  this 
difference  is  not  inexplicable.  A well-spent  life  in  this  world,  and  a 
well-founded  hope  of  immortality  in  the  next,  may  readily  account  for 
the  one — a long  series  of  breaches  against  the  laws  of  Nature  and  of 
Nature’s  God,  with  little  or  no  hope  of  “ another  and  a better  word” — 
perhaps  the  apprehension  of  a worse,  inevitably  eventuates  in  the  other. 
Virtue  is  its  own  reward,  at  all  periods  of  life,  but  it  is  religion 
alone,  that  can  sustain  frail  humanity,  with  any  degree  of  fortitude, 
under  the  pressure  of  adversity,  the  infirmities  of  age,  and  the  prospect 
of  death. 


Descending,  however,  from  this  spiritual  source  of  consolation  to 
material  conditions  of  human  nature,  there  are  many  curious  subjects 
which  appear  to  have  escaped  the  attention  even  of  Cicero,  while 
portraying  the  comforts  of  old  age.  Some  of  these  may  be  less  digni- 
fied or  philosophic  than  those  enumerated  by  Tully,  but  not  less 
natural  or  efficient.  We  know  that,  in  youth,  much  of  our  time  is 
spent,  and  much  of  our  pleasure  consists  in  anticipations  of  the  future — 
in  building  castles  in  the  air.  In  age,  the  scene  is  reversed.  Unable 
to  embark  in  new  pursuits,  or  continue  the  old,  many  of  our  hours  are 
daily  passed  in  retrospection — in  re-enacting  by- gone  transactions — 
conjuring  up  long  forgotten  events — and  rehearsing  the  chequered 
drama  of  existence,  even  from  our  boyish  days  ! Memory,  shattered 
as  it  is,  now  stands  our  friend,  and  supplies  the  place  of  imagination. 

In  his  half-dreaming  reveries,  the  septuagenarian  winds  through  all 
the  tortuous  and  devious  paths  of  youth  and  manhood,  extracting  plea- 
sure not  only  from  the  smiles,  but  also  from  the  frowns  of  Fortune, 
experienced  in  the  diversified  journey  of  seventy  years.  Misfortunes 
are  now  remembered  only  as  difficulties  overcome,  dangers  survived, 
and  sorrows  deprived  by  time  of  their  stings.  Along  the  retrospective 
vista,  joys  are  painted  in  mellowed  tints,  unalloyed  by  those  pains 
and  penalties  from  which  they  are  seldom  free  in  their  actual  occurrence 
during  the  busy  turmoil  of  life.  These  reminiscences  afford  more 
solace  to  the  old  man  in  his  arm-chair,  half  dozing  over  his  cheering 


CONSOLATION  OF  COMPLAINING. 


210 


glass  of  port  or  sherry,  between  dinner  and  tea,  than  many  young 
people  can  imagine ; and  they  are  not  attended  by  the  broils,  nor 
succeeded  by  the  headaches,  which  too  often  detract  from  the  plea- 
sures of  Bacchanalian  festivities  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  Septenniads. 

There  are  other  peculiarities  of  the  aged,  which  may  admit  of  question 
as  to  their  tendency  towards  happiness  or  misery.  He  who  has  passed 
his  tenth  Septenniad,  is  apt  to  regard  with  disdain — sometimes  ap- 
proaching to  disgust — the  ever-changing  manners,  habits,  fashions, 
customs,  and  even  creeds,  going  on  in  the  world  around  him.  He  has 
long  embraced  the  venerable  maxim — 

“ Stare  super  vias  antiquas,” 

and  considers  every  deviation  from  the  instructions  of  his  forefathers, 
as  a degeneration  from  the  “ good  old  ways”  of  the  world.  In  these 
his  reflections  on  modern  frivolities,  errors,  and  evils,  there  is  no  small 
share  of  pride  and  pleasure,  mixed  up  with  the  acerbity  and  wailings 
of  querulous  criticisms.  Upon  the  whole,  I am  inclined  to  place  these 
among  the  solaces  rather  than  among  the  miseries  of  age. 

But  however  this  may  be,  they  are  often  extremely  amusing  to  the 
listener.  I attended  a gentleman  for  many  years  before  he  was  sum- 
moned, at  the  mature  age  of  84,  to  his  final  home.  When  I first 
became  acquainted  with  him,  the  steam-engine  was  the  daily  subject  of 
his  anathemas.  This  vile  automaton  he  would  not  admit  to  be  the  in- 
vention of  Fulton  or  Watt,  but  that  of  the  “ Evil  One”  himself.  It 
was,  in  no  long  time,  to  ruin  half  the  artizans  of  England,  turning 
their  families  into  paupers,  and  themselves  into  robbers  and  thieves. 
But  this  was  not  all.  The  iron  and  tin  mines  of  Cornwall  and  Wales 
would  be  utterly  exhausted  by  the  manufacture  of  hardware,  for 
Europe  and  America,  so  that  we  should  not  have  a nail  to  drive  into  a 
door  or  a ship’s  bottom  ! 

Gas  fortunately  changed  the  theme.  Nobody  could  doubt  that  this 
was  the  invention  of  Lucifer.  It  vitiated  the  air  we  breathe — it 
poisoned  the  waters,  so  that  the  fish  of  the  Thames  could  not  live 
among  the  drainings  of  the  gas-works.  The  coal-mines  of  the  North 
would  soon  be  exhausted,  and  the  whale  fisheries  would  be  at  an  end, 
as  oil  would  soon  be  useless.  The  day  of  retribution,  however,  was 
not  far  distant,  for  the  metropolis  and  all  the  great  cities  of  England 
would  one  day  be  blown  into  the  air,  by  a general  explosion  of  this 
infernal  machine ! 


220 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


Gas,  in  its  turn,  gave  way  before  a still  greater  evil— steam  naviga- 
tion. The  days  of  England’s  naval  supremacy  were  numbered ! 

“ The  flag  that  braved  a thousand  years, 

The  battle  and  the  breeze,” 

would  soon  be  struck  for  ever!  The  hardy  race  of  tars  who  could 
“ hand  reef  and  steer,”  in  the  heaviest  gale  of  wind,  would  soon 
degenerate  into  a band  of  squalid  half-broiled  wretches,  doomed,  from 
morning  till  night,  and  from  night  till  morning,  to  heave  up  coals  under 
a cauldron,  or  grease  the  clanking  machinery  of  a steam-engine.  Oh, 
it  was  melancholy  to  behold  a fine  vessel  squatted  on  the  water  like  a 
duck,  with  fins  for  sails,  and  a huge  chimney  for  a mast,  belching  forth 
smoke  like  a glass-house,  and  consuming  more  fuel  in  a day  than  would 
warm  the  hearths  of  half  a parish  for  a week ! Such  a system  would, 
in  the  next  war,  strike  Great  Britain  out  of  the  map  of  independent 
kingdoms.  Had  Napoleon  been  supplied  with  steamers  to  tow  his 
flotilla  across  the  Channel  in  a calm,  England  would  now  have  been  a 
province  of  France,  and  the  Czar  of  Muscovy  a sous-prefect  of  Peters- 
burgh ! 

Strange  to  say,  this  anticipated  subjugation  of  his  country  by  foreign 
bayonets,  was,  all  at  once,  absorbed  and  forgotten  in  an  event  of  a very 
different  character — Catholic  Emancipation.  Although  there  had 
been  premonitory  lightnings  for  some  years  in  the  West,  this  stupendous 
disaster  came  on  the  old  gentlemen  like  a peal  of  thunder,  for  which  he 
was  quite  unprepared.  In  the  sudden  conversion  of  Peel  to  Popery, 
he  saw  clearly  portrayed  the  advent  of  the  Scarlet  Lady  of  Babylon, 
the  subversion  of  the  Protestant  Church,  and  the  dominion  of  Anti- 
christ ! Already  the  approaching  tortures  of  the  Inquisition  had  nearly 
suspended  the  racking  pains  of  gout,  when  the  wheel  of  fortune  once 
more  revolved,  and  the  gift  of  prophecy  was  required  in  a new  quarter 
of  the  compass. 

The  Emancipation  of  Irish  Catholics  was  bad  enough,  but  " Reform 
of  Parliament”  was  a dispensation  that  could  not  but  speedily  bring 
down  a signal  and  awful  punishment  on  a guilty  nation  ! The  political 
frame  of  society  would  now  be  rent  asunder,  and  the  great  pyramid  of 
ranks,  orders,  and  gradations  would  be  inverted,  and  set  on  its  apex, 
with  its  broad  and  unwieldy  base  uppermost ! Such  a fabric  could 
not  stand  a single  year,  without  breaking  down  and  involving  all  classes 


consolation  of  complaining. 


221 


in  one  common  ruin  ! One,  two,  three  years  elapsed,  and,  to  the 
astonishment  of  the  prophet,  the  pyramid  stood  firm  on  its  apex ! One 
day,  when  I entered  his  apartment,  I saw  Eureka  in  his  countenance. 
He  had  evidently  solved  some  great  problem,  and  was  bursting  with 
the  discovery. 

“ Doctor,  said  he,  you  have  often  asked  me  if  the  pyramid  were  still 
standing  on  its  apex  ? I can  tell  you  now  why  it  yet  stands.  Did 
you  ever,  when  a boy,  amuse  yourself  by  spinning  a Tor  ?”  I an- 
swered in  the  affirmative.  “ How  did  you  make  the  top  stand  on  its 
pivot,  with  its  broad  and  heavy  end  uppermost  ?”  By  whipping  it  cer- 
tainly, I replied.  “ That’s  the  very  point,”  cried  he.  “ The  political 
top  is  kept  on  its  apex,  at  present,  by  perpetual  revolution,  whipped 
round  and  round  with  a scourge  of  scorpions  by  that  fiend  O'Connell  ! 
But  the  quicker  and  the  longer  it  revolves,  the  greater  will  be  the  crash 
when  it  comes  down.” 

This  amiable  and  venerable  prophet  did  not  live  to  see  any  of  his 
predictions  fulfilled — and  most  of  them  were  forgotten  even  by  himself. 
But  he  derived  more  solid  advantages  from  his  prophecies  than  if  they 
had  all  been  verified  to  the  letter.  In  his  philanthropic  wailings  over 
the  evils  that  were  to  befall  his  posterity,  he  forgot  a great  proportion 
of  his  own  personal  infirmities  and  sufferings.  Days,  months,  and 
years  of  bodily  pain  in  himself  were  thus  beguiled  by  ruminations  on 
the  imaginary  ills  of  others  ! Nor  is  this  a rare  or  solitary  instance  of 
the  mu  sings  of  the  mind  when  the  body  is  bowed  down  by  age.  The 
species  of  solace  illustrated  by  this  example  is  diffused  through  every 
ramification  of  mankind,  varied  in  kind,  mode,  and  degree,  by  individual 
temperament,  education,  and  habits  of  life. 

Perhaps  the  humane  reader  may  not  be  disinclined  to  learn  the  finale 
of  the  worthy  personage  alluded  to  in  this  instance.  A slight  attack 
of  apoplexy  impaired  his  faculties,  and  put  an  end  to  his  anxieties  for 
the  fate  of  succeeding  generations.  He  passed  another  year  or  more 
in  a kind  of  quiet  vegetative  existence,  with  little  bodily  pain  and  no 
tribulation  of  mind.  A second  seizure  of  coma  rather  than  of  apoplexy 
rounded  a long  life  wTith  a short  and  transient  slumber  that  ended  in 
eternal  sleep. 

But  notwithstanding  these  and  many  other  sources  of  solace  under 
the  pressure  of  years — and  although  indulgent  Nature  endeavours  to 
provide  for  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  her  offspring  in  all  periods  of 


222 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


existence,  when  her  laws  are  not  outraged  ; yet  it  is  but  too  true  that, 
in  civilized  society,  declining  life  brings  writh  it  a long  black  catalogue  of 
calamities  and  sufferings  which  were  never  designed  by  our  Creator, 
and  which  are  the  penalties  we  pay  for  civilization,  refinement,  luxuries, 
and  excesses,  in  youth  and  manhood.  The  wild  animal  decays  and 
dies  with  little  or  no  pain  or  suffering.  Compare  this  with  the  horse, 
domesticated  and  civilized  with  man  ! He  is  afflicted  with  nearly  as 
many  maladies  as  is  his  master ! So  of  the  unsophisticated  Indian  and 
the  polished  European.  Were  there  no  considerations  of  present  in- 
convenience, but  only  the  knowledge  of  what  is  to  be  the  lot  of  old  age, 
the  exhortation  to  temperance  and  exercise  in  early  and  middle  life, 
deserves  the  deepest  reflection.  After  the  ninth  or  tenth  Septenniad, 
neither  prevention  nor  cure  of  corporeal  afflictions  need  be  expected. 
We  are  then  doomed  to  suffer  for  early  indiscretions,  without  hope  of 
mitigation  ! How  many  thousands  would  then  give  kingdoms  for  a few 
years  of  immunity  from  pains  and  penalties  which  they  laid  the  founda- 
tions of,  when  it  was  in  their  power  to  prevent  them  ! 

It  is  not  a little  curious  that,  amongst  the  most  wild  and  uncultivated 
nations  on  the  earth,  age  is  venerated  and  honoured,  even  on  its  own 
account ; whereas  in  states  of  the  highest  cultivation  and  refinement, 
we  frequently  see  the  diseases  of  body  and  mind  treated  with  contempt 
— too  often  with  ridicule  ! This  is  passing  strange,  knowing  as  we  do, 
that  the  life  of  man  is  so  short,  that  the  young  may  be  said  to  be 
actually  treading  in  the  very  steps  of  the  aged — hurried  on  by  irresisti- 
ble fate  to  the  same  melancholy  goal — and  plunging,  like  their  parents, 
into  the  same  gulph  of  oblivion  at  last.  If  some  cruel  tyrant  pre- 
cipitated daily  into  a dark  and  dismal  dungeon  a certain  number  of  his 
subjects,  there  to  linger  and  die  without  food  or  drink,  what  would  be 
thought  of  those  last  thrown  in,  if  they  made  themselves  merry  with 
the  agonies  and  death  of  those  wTho  had  preceded  them  by  a few  days ! 
Yet  such  conduct  wrouid  not  be  less  rational  or  humane  than  that  which 
sports  with  the  infirmities  of  the  aged,  and  points  the  finger  of  ridicule 
at  the  second  childhood  to  which  they  themselves  are  fast  advancing ! 

It  is  strange  that  we  should  dread  or  despise  that  wdiich  we  all  wish 
to  attain — length  of  years. 

“ Age,  says  a late  writer,  ought  to  be  venerated  and  respected, 
especially  when  wTe  consider  it  free  from  the  dominion  of  impetuous 
passions,  and  endowed  with  a greater  share  of  experience  than  appcr- 


CONSOLATIONS  OF  OLl)  AGE. 


223 


tains  to  other  periods  of  life.  Nay,  we  may  advance  another  step,  in 
depreciating  the  calumny  too  generally  directed  against  the  condition 
of  the  period,  by  observing  that,  when  old  age  is  devoid  of  unpleasant 
reflections  from  the  conduct  of  a past  life,  and  of  diseases  from  the 
imprudence  of  former  years,  men  in  easy  circumstances  find  it  an  ex- 
tremely comfortable  state.”* 

There  is  much  truth  in  these  observations,  though  the  picture  here 
drawn  of  old  age  may  be  somewhat  too  flattering.  It  tends,  however, 
to  shew,  what  I have  elsewhere  urged,  that  all  the  advantages  of  life 
are  not  concentrated  in  its  earlier  periods — but  scattered,  however 
sparsely,  over  the  ulterior  epochs  of  man’s  existence  here  below. 
When  we  mean  to  express  our  most  fervent  desire  for  the  welfare  of  an 
individual,  we  wish  him — “ long  life.”  The  Eastern  Nations  have 
carried  this  to  a hyperbolical  excess.  “May  you  live  a thousand  years,” 
is  an  ordinary  salutation — and  the  sacred  text  is  well  known — “ honour 
thy  father  and  mother,  that  thy  days  may  be  long  in  the  land.”  All 
these  shew  that  protracted  existence  has,  in  every  age,  in  every  clime, 
been  considered  the  greatest  boon  which  could  be  conferred  by  Heaven 
on  a mortal  being.  I am  far  from  agreeing  in  the  propriety  of  this 
“ universal  prayer .”  Health  and  contentment  are  infinitely  preferable 
to  length  of  years,  which  must  be  attended  with  infirmities — too  often 
with  sufferings.  Yet  a contemplation  of  tottering  age  and  octogenarian 
imbecility  ought  to  supply  any  thing  rather  than  food  for  gratulation, 
much  less  mirth  or  satire  to  the  young  and  vigorous.  They  are  pro- 
phetic mirrors  which  reflect  the  future  form,  with  as  much  fidelity  as 
the  polished  glass  reflects  the  living  features — but  with  this  important 
addition,  that  they  portray  the  moral  as  well  as  the  physical  condition 
towards  which  we  are  verging ! 


* Dr.  Jameson  on  the  Changes  of  the  Body,  &c. 


224 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH. 


ULTEA-LIMITES. 

[70  to  0.] 

last  scene  of  all 

That  ends  this  strange  eventful  history  ! 

The  Almighty,  for  wise  purposes,  has  implanted  in  every  human  breast, 
an  instinctive  love  of  life  and  horror  of  the  grave.  But  had  the  limits 
of  man's  sojourn  on  earth  been  accurately  defined — had  the  “ three 
score  years  and  ten,”  been  the  maximum  of  his  days,  the  instinct  in 
question  would  have  been  a fatal  gift,  and  utterly  destructive  of  even  a 
moment’s  happiness  here  below.  The  Omniscient  Creator  will’d  it 
otherwise.  For  him  who  is  advanced,  however  far,  on  Time’s  list — even 
for  the  septuagenarian,  so  ample  a margin  is  left,  and  so  completely  in- 
volved in  obscurity  is  the  further  boundary  of  that  margin,  that  no  one 
can  calculate  his  own  destiny, — no  one  can  foresee  the  day  or  the  year 
that  is  to  be  his  last.  On  the  contrary,  every  one  indulges  the  hope  that 
he  is  not  next  on  the  list  of  departures  from  the  social  scene. 

Et  mihi  forsan  tibi  quod  negarit, 

Porriget  hora. 

The  grisley  monarch,  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  every  hundred,  ap- 
proaches at  last  in  disguise,  and,  waving  his  Lethean  Sceptre,  seals 
in  un waking  sleep  the  eyes  of  his  victim,  now  as  unconscious  of  the 
struggle  that  separates  soul  from  body,  as  he  was  of  the  maternal  throe 
that  first  ushered  him  into  this  world  of  cares.* 


* We  have  heard  a great  deal  of  those  brilliant  scintillations  of  intellect  that  some- 
times cast  a dazzling  lustre  round  the  dying  bed.  Eloquent  orations  on  this  topic 
have  been  addressed  to  audiences  more  disposed  to  swallow  the  marvellous  than 
investigate  the  probable ! The  whole  is,  in  my  opinion,  an  innocent  romance, 
calculated  to  gratify  the  feelings — perhaps  flatter  the  pride — of  the  living,  by  throwing 
a halo  round  the  couch  of  the  dead. 

Every  one  knows  how  prone  are  the  friends  and  spectators  of  the  dying  man,  to 
mark  each  expression — treasure  it  up  in  the  mind — and  embellish  it  in  the  rehearsal. 
But  the  experienced  physician  and  the  calm  philosophic  observer  reduce  these  ex- 
aggerations within  the  narrow  and  sober  boundary  of  truth.  Few  have  had  the 
melancholy  task  of  witnessing  more  death-bed  scenes  than  myself,  whether  amid  the 
storms  and  havoc  of  war,  or  in  the  quiet  walks  of  peace.  But  no  such  corruscations 
of  the  mind  have  I ever  beheld,  when  .the  immortal  spark  was  deserting  its  un- 


“last  scene  of  all/’ 


225 


Although  instinctively,  and,  of  course,  involuntarily  clinging  to  life, 
and  desiring  its  procrastination  from  year  to  year,  yet  the  octogenarian 
experiences  a series  of  events  that  tend  to  gradually  wean  him  from  his 
attachment  to  this  world — or,  at  all  events,  to  enable  him  to  contemplate 
his  approaching  end  with  more  serenity  of  mind,  than  at  earlier  periods. 
These  preparations  are  moral,  physical,  and  religious.  In  the  first  place, 
the  octogenarian  finds  that  he  has  outlived  all,  or  almost  all  his  juvenile 
acquaintances  and  relations.  Father  and  mother  are  scarcely  remembered 
in  form  or  feature — brothers  and  sisters  are  gone — few  even  of  his  own 
progeny  remain  on  earth,  and  they  are  dispersed,  and  growing  old  amongst 
their  own  families.  Those  who  were  bom  and  still  survive,  when  the 
octogenarian  was  in  the  prime  of  life,  have  now  a numerous  offspring, 
and  are  themselves  beginning  to  decline  into  the  vale  of  years ! With 
these  he  cannot  now  form  new  acquaintance,  their  habits  and  sentiments 
being  all  different  from  his  own,  which  have  remained  stationary  for 
twenty  years  or  more.  Thus  the  old  man  feels  himself  like  a withered, 
gnarl’d  oak  in  the  midst  of  a forest  of  tall  and  flourishing  trees,  having 
little  in  common  with  the  world  around  him,  except  the  air  he  breathes 
and  mother  earth  under  his  foot ! Unable  to  mix  with  society,  or  to 
enjoy  it  if  able,  he  seeks  converse  with  the  dead.  But  those  authors 
who  afforded  him  delight  in  youth,  are  insipid  in  age.  Works  of  ima- 
gination have  lost  their  charm,  because  imagination  itself  is  decayed. 
Arts  and  sciences  have  faded  on  the  memory  ; and  fiction  excites  little 
interest  when  fancy  is  fled. 


inhabitable  tenement.  The  phenomenon  is  contrary 'to  Nature  and  experience — and 
miracles  I leave  to  those  who  prefer  them  to  experimental  truths. 

The  alleged  fact,  though  grossly  exaggerated,  has  some  foundation.  In  a very 
considerable  number  of  instances,  the  dying  man  and  woman  retain  possession  of 
their  mental  faculties  till  within  a very  short  period  of  dissolution.  And  this  depends 
on  the  nature  and  seat  of  the  disease.  Many  maladies  destroy  life  without  materially 
disturbing  the  organ  of  the  mind — the  brain — till  the  last  hours  of  existence. 
Pulmonary  consumption  is  one  of  these,  and  the  list  is  rather  extensive.  In  such 
cases,  we  frequently  observe  a serenity  of  mind-^-a  tranquillity — a placid  resignation 
to  the  will  of  the  Almighty,  and  even  a cheerfulness  in  contemplating  the  approaching 
change.  But  as  to  any  preternatural  blazing-up  of  the  expiring  taper,  at  such 
moments,  it  is  either  sheer  imagination  in  the  bye-standers,  or  a poetical  creation  of 
after -thought.  No  rational  or  physiological  explanation  of  the  phenomenon  has 
been  attempted  by  the  historians  of  these  death-bed  illuminations.  No  ! They  have 
left  them  to  the  easy  and  convenient  solution  of  supernatural  agency.  The  ex- 
planation which  I have  given  is  founded  on  physical  facts — and  with  the  miraculous 
I have  no  concern. 

Gg 


226 


ECONOMY  OF  HEALTH, 


There  is  one,  and  only  one  book,  (need  I name  it !)  which  retains  its 
attractions  to  the  last,  and  even  rises  in  estimation  as  life  sinks  in  value. 
Frigid  philosophy  offers  little  consolation  when  the  curtain  begins  to  fall. 
True,  it  shakes  the  fear  of  future  punishment,  and  the  hope  of  future 
reward ; but  it  substitutes  for  these  the  horror  of  annihilation,  more 
terrible  to  the  human  mind  than  the  direst  chimeras  of  the  wildest 
superstition ! 

The  musing  melancholy  sceptic  meditating  on  the  dreary  grave,  where 
the  body  is  to  moulder  into  dust,  and  the  mind  vanish  into  nothing, 
envies  while  he  despises  the  savage  of  the  wilderness — even  the  untutor’d 
Indian  to  whom 

————————— — is  given 

Beyond  the  cloud- capt  hill  an  humble  Heaven  ; 

And  where,  admitted  to  an  equal  sky, 

His  faithful  dog  shall  bear  him  company. 

Gladly  would  he  barter  Golconda’s  mines  (were  they  his)  for  any 
creed,  however  credulous,  of  any  people,  however  barbarous ! But  faith 
is  a jewel  that  cannot  be  purchased  ! Although  a belief  may  force  itself 
upon  us,  we  cannot  force  ourselves  upon  a belief.  It  is  the  child  of  con- 
viction, and  disdains  adoption  from  choice.  Happy,  thrice  happy,  the 
man  who,  in  early  life,  has  imbibed  the  cheering  doctrines  of  Christianity, 
and,  in  the  maturity  of  years,  has  practised  its  holy  precepts.  He,  and 
he  only,  ean  bear  the  infirmities  of  age  with  fortitude,  and  the  prospect 
of  dissolution  with  composure— -confident  in  the  hope  that,  the  agonies 
of  death  are  but  the  pains  of  a new  birth,  and,  that  the  grave  itself  will 
prove  the  cradle  of  immortality. 

Unfading  Hope,  when  life’s  last  embers  burn, 

When  soul  to  soul,  and  dust  to  dust  return ! 

Heaven  to  thy  charge  resigns  the  awful  hour ! 

Oh  ! then  thy  kingdom  comes  ! immortal  power  ! 

What  though  each  spark  of  earth-born  rapture  fly 
The  quivering  lip,  pale  cheek,  and  closing  eye  ! 

Bright  to  the  soul  thy  seraph  hands  convey 
The  morning  dream  of  life’s  eternal  day — 

Then,  then,  the  triumph  and  the  trance  begin. 

And  all  the  Phoenix  spirit  burns  within  ! 


THE  END. 


( 227  ) 


APPENDIX* 


MR,  COULSON  ON  TIGHT-RACING. 

Since  the  first  edition  was  in  press,  Mr.  Coulson,  a very  intelligent  sur- 
geon, has  published  a little  work  on  deformities  of  the  chest,  which  has 
already  reached  a second  edition,  in  which  there  is  a chapter  dedicated  to 
the  subject  of  tight-lacing,  containing  many  highly-important  observa- 
tions. Mr.  Coulson  has  introduced  some  plates,  from  the  celebrated 
Professor  Soemmering,  on  the  effects  of  tight-lacing,  which  deserve  the 
attention  of  mothers  and  daughters,  and,  among  other  pertinent  remarks, 
will  be  found  the  following. 

“ The  use  of  the  stays,  when  they  have  the  least  effect  on  the  chest, 
produces  compression  of  the  soft  parts  below,  and  throws  up  the  viscera 
of  the  abdomen  towards  the  chest. 

" Not  only  will  the  moveable  false  ribs  be  pushed  upwards,  and  close 
together,  and  the  space  between  them  diminished,  but  they  will  be  so 
pressed,  that  those  of  the  right  side  will  be  brought  nearer  to  the  left, 
not  only  at  their  anterior  extremities  (the  last,  perhaps,  excepted  on 
account  of  its  shortness),  but  also  at  their  extremities  towards  the  spine. 
In  consequence,  the  inclination  of  the  false  ribs  generally  must  increase, 
and  their  cartilages  be  more  bent;  for  the  cartilaginous  parts  yield  most 
readily,  and  the  bony  parts,  on  account  of  their  elasticity,  yield  also  a 
little. 

" If  the  compression  be  carried  further,  the  lower  true  ribs  will  be 
carried  upwards  towards  one  another ; the  right  will  be  carried  towards 
the  left,  the  sternum  will  ascend,  and  when  the  pressure  is  increased,  the 
sternal  extremities  of  the  lower  true  ribs  will  necessarily  be  brought 
nearer  to  the  spine,  and  the  diameter  of  the  chest,  from  before  to  behind, 
be  diminished. 


* See  page  51  of  this  edition. 


228 


APPEND  IX TI G H T-LA  CING, 


“ Whilst  this  is  going1  on  with  the  ribs,  the  bodies  of  the  vertebne  are 
somewhat  raised,  their  spinous  processes  gradually  become  more  oblique, 
and  pressed  on  one  another,  and  at  last  the  spine  becomes  bent. 

" Superiorly,  the  thorax  naturally  becomes  smaller.  The  fifth  and 
sixth  ribs  do  not  further  suffer  from  the  immediate  pressure  of  the  stays, 
but  commonly  form  more  or  less  of  a circle  round  the  chest.  In  the 
remaining  upper  ribs,  the  contrary,  to  a certain  degree,  is  the  case : the 
ribs  are  pressed  from  one  another  by  the  internal  viscera ; their  interspaces 
are  greater ; the  right  is  somewhat  separated  from  the  left ; and  their 
sternal  stand  off  from  their  spinal  extremities. 

" To  the  act  of  breathing,  the  first,  second,  third,  and  at  the 
utmost  the  fourth  ribs,  contribute : it  even  appears  as  if  they  were  more 
moveable. 

“ To  this  space  are  the  breasts,  with  the  surrounding  parts,  pushed 
upwards,  and  such  persons  appear  to  have  larger  breasts,  but  some  part 
of  these  organs  usually  suffers  from  the  pressure. 

“ The  shoulder-blades  are  sometimes  brought  closer  to  one  another 
behind;  and  their  under  part  is  pressed  towards  the  spine;  the  back 
loses  its  fine  rounding,  and  the  arm  is  impeded  in  its  free  motion.  Hence, 
when  a tight-laced  person,  while  sitting,  reaches  over,  she  must  move 
the  whole  upper  part  of  the  body  on  the  hips,” 

If  all  these  changes  take  place  externally,  what  must  the  internal 
organs  suffer?  The  lower  portions  of  lung  are  compressed — the  circu- 
lation is  impeded — the  diaphragm  is  pushed  up  forcibly,  and  embarrassed 
in  all  its  motions.  The  viscera  of  the  abdomen  suffer.  The  stomaoh  is 
compressed,  and  bad  digestion  follow^.  The  duodenum  is  pushed  up- 
wards unnaturally,  and  the  function  of  the  liver  is  impeded.  The  rectum, 
uterus,  and  bladder  are  forced  lower  down  than  is  natural.  From  two 
measurements,  Soemmering  found  that,  “ in  a fine  girl,  the  circumfer- 
ence of  the  head  was  twenty-two  Paris  inches ; while  the  circumference 
of  the  waist,  with  the  stays  on,  was  21  inches  and  a mere  fraction.”  In 
another  girl,  the  circumference  of  the  head  was  18  inches,  and  that  of 
the  laced  body  was  15  inches!  In  this  last,  the  circumference  of  the 
chest,  at  the  arm-pits,  was  39  inches.  The  body  was,  in  this  young  lady, 
three  inches  less  in  circumference  than  the  head  ! 

Soemmering  has  collected  from  various  authors,  and  with  true  German 
industry,  a catalogue  of  the  diseases  or  disorders  produced  by  the  tight- 
lacing* — and  they  amount  to  the  frightful  number  of — ninety-six!  Many 


APPENDIX TIGHT-LACING. 


229 


of  them,  too,  are  amongst  the  most  formidable  and  fatal  maladies  to 
which  flesh  is  heir ! I need  only  glance  at  a very  few  of  these,  viz. 
carotidean  aneurism,  cancer,  asthma,  haemoptysis,  pulmonary  abscess, 
consumption,  hydrothorax,  scirrhus  of  the  pylorus,  dysentery,  jaundice, 
cancer  of  the  womb,  &c.  &c.  Amongst  numerous  evils  enumerated  by 
the  Germans,  as  attributable  to  tight-lacing,  are  " ugly  children.”  It  is 
also  to  be  borne  in  mind,  that  habit  renders  the  tight  stays  necessary  ; 
for  ladies,  after  15  or  20  years,  are  so  dependent  on  them,  that  they 
cannot  keep  themselves  erect  without  them. 

The  injurious  effects  of  tight-lacing  are  hardly  exaggerated  by  Soem- 
mering or  Mr.  Coulson;  for  the  abdomen  and  thorax  are  so  much  com- 
pressed by  the  stays,  that  the  ribs  cannot  rise  nor  the  diaphragm  descend 
at  each  inspiration.  Neither  digestion  nor  assimilation  can,  therefore, 
be  properly  carried  on,  and  many  of  the  corporeal  functions  must  neces  - 
sarily languish. 

I strongly  recommend  Mr.  Coulson’s  little  work  to  mothers  and 
maids,  as  well  as  to  the  public  generally,  and  particularly  solicit  their 
attention  to  the  plates  of  Soemmering  in  his  volume.  They  will  convey 
a much  better  idea  of  the  effects  of  tight-lacing  than  any  verbal  descrip- 
tion could  do. 


( 230  ) 


LATELY  PUBLISHED,  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR, 

Fourth  Edition,  price  85.  6d.  bds. 

It  Change  of  Air,  or  the  Pursuit  of  Health  and  Recreation;  illustrating 
the  Beneficial  Influence  of  Bodily  Exercise,  Change  of  Scene,  Pure 
Air,  and  Temporary  Relaxation,  as  Antidotes  to  the  Wear  and 
Tear  of  Education  and  Avocation. 

CRITICISMS. 

“ Every  page  of  Dr.  Johnson’s  volume  reminds  us  of  the  4 Sentimental  Journey.’ 
Like  its  prototype,  this  work  is  so  spirited,  so  sentimental,  so  full  of  sound  moral 
reflection — so  correct  and  so  impartial,  that  we  scarcely  know  where  to  look  for  its 
equal.  It  is  a classical  and  philosophical  tour,  in  which  the  characteristic  features 
of  every  country  are  sketched  with  fidelity  and  effect.  In  addition  to  extensive  read- 
ing and  research,  the  author  has  travelled  over  many  territories  collecting  his  mate- 
rials. The  work  is  full  of  entertainment  for  all  who  love  history,  topography,  the 
description  of  beautiful  scenery,  traditionary  legends  and  antiquarian  accounts  of 
historical  monuments.  To  travellers  and  invalids  it  is  an  amusing,  instructive,  and 
invaluable  companion.  It  is  impossible  to  dip  into  any  part  of  it,  without  having 
the  attention  rivetted  and  the  fancy  pleased.  Of  this  production  we  need  only  say, 
that  it  is  worthy  of  the  accomplished  author.  It  is  written  with  elegance,  accuracy, 
and  an  impartial  spirit  of  philosophy  ; and  will  add  to  his  high  literary  and  profes- 
sional reputation.  Had  he  written  but  this  volume,  he  would  have  ranked  among 
the  best  topographical  writers  of  the  day  ; for  his  description  ‘ of  men,  manners,  and 
countries’  are  seldom  equalled — hardly  ever  surpassed.  It  is  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting publications  which  modern  times  have  produced.” — London  Medical  fy  Surgical 
Journal,  April,  1831. 


The  Ninth  Edition,  improved,  price  65.  6d.  boards. 

2.  Dr.  Johnson  on  Indigestion,  or  Morbid  Sensibility  of  the  Stomach, 

«fcc. 

criticisms  on  the  above  work. 

“ This  brings  us  to  the  conclusion  of  the  volume — a volume,  we  repeat,  small  in 
size,  but  rich  in  matter,  from  the  perusal  of  which  every  reader  will  derive  instruc- 
tion. The  extracts  which  we  have  given  sufficiently  attest  the  value  of  this  contri- 
bution to  the  stock  of  medical  facts.  The  essay  is  written  throughout  in  a pleasing 
unaffected  style.” — Med.  Phy.  Journal  for  Jan.  1827. 

“ We  will  venture  to  say,  that  this  cheap  little  volume,  which  sells  for  half  a dol- 
lar, contains  more  sound  precept  and  wholesome  practice,  than  will  be  found  in  one 
half  the  tumid  octavos,  which  we  buy  for  eight  or  nine  times  as  much  money,  and 
throw  by,  unread,  at  last.  It  is  full  of  clear  details  of  what  we  believe  to  be  the 
correct  views  of  Dr.  Johnson,  concerning  the  nature  and  treatment  of  some  of  the 
most  obstinate  complaints,  with  which  the  physician  is  every  day  baffled,  or  the 
patient  afflicted,  tormented,  and  ultimately  shuffled  out  of  this  mortal  coil.  We, 
therefore,  most  earnestly  recommend  it  to  our  readers,  as  a treatise  which  they  will 
be  sure  to  peruse,  if  but  for  the  pleasant  style  in  which  it  is  written  ; and  sure  to 
profit  by,  both  as  regards  their  own  comfort,  and  the  well-being  of  their  patients.” — 
North  American  Medical  and  Surgical  Journal,  April,  1827 ,p.  358. 


The  5tli  Edition,  greatly  enlarged,  price  18s.  boards. 

3.  The  Influence  of  Tropical  Climates  on  European  Constitutions. 

critical  notices  of  the  above  work. 

" In  no  Work  do  we  remember  to  have  seen  the  important  subject  of  preserving 
Health  in  Tropical  Climates,  so  ably,  so  clearly,  and  so  philosophically  treated.  The 
easy,  lucid,  and  entertaining  manner  in  which  it  is  written,  cannot  fail  to  render  it 
equally  interesting  to  the  soldier,  sailor,  merchant,  or  traveller,  as  to  the  medical 
part  of  the  community.” — New  Med.  8f  Phys,  Journal,  Dec.  1813. 


4.  The  Recess,  or  Autumnal  Relaxation  in  the  Highlands  and  Low* 
lands;  being  the  Home  Circuit  versus  Foreign  Travel,  a Tour  of 
Health  and  Pleasure  to  the  Highlands  and  Hebrides.  (Sequel  to 
“ Change  of  Air.”) 

CRITICAL  NOTICES  OF  THIS  WORK. 

“ The  author  of  this  book,  with  a right  proper  feeling  of  love  for  the  mother-land, 
prefers  the  Highlands  and  Lowlands  of  Scotland  to  the  romantic  scenery  breasting  the 
Garonne — in  short,  to  the  whole  of  the  Continent.  His  book  is  full  of  this  feeling. 
He  treats  his  subjects  with  freshness  and  earnestness,  and  evidently  has  his  heart  in 
what  he  is  doing.  He  is  so  engrosed  in  the  locale,  that  he  succeeds  in  creating  a 
strong  interest  in  the  reader.  His  book  will  prove  a lively  companion  on  the  route  it 
traces.” — Atlas. 

“ The  author,  who  has  evidently  a turn  for  the  satirical,  seems  to  have  had  abund- 
ant materials  afforded  him  for  the  gratification  of  his  humour.  The  districts  through 
which  he  travelled  abound  in  romantic  scenery,  and  of  a character  to  compensate 
highly  those  who  travel  for  amusement  or  health.  A better  companion  than  this 
book  they  can  hardly  find.” — News,  Feb.  9th,  1834. 

“ He  gives  us,  nevertheless,  some  pleasing  descriptions — nay,  passages  in  which 
manners  are  cleverly  delineated — and  has  such  good  will  towards  the  land,  that  he 
often  speaks  the  truth  about  it.  This  traveller  is  the  kindest  of  all  tourists  : he  seeks 
to  extract  enjoyment  out  of  every  thing,  and  he  goes  smiling  over  the  land,  scatter- 
ing his  jokes  and  his  jibes  like  a prodigal.” — Athenceum,  Is/  March,  1834. 


Second  Edition,  ‘price  7s.  6d.  boards. 

5.  The  Economy  of  Health,  or  the  Stream  of  Human  Eife,  from  the 
Cradle  to  the  Grave  ; with  Reflections,  Moral,  Physical,  and  Philo- 
sophical, on  the  Septennial  Phases  of  Human  Existence. 

CRITICISMS  ON  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 

“ Dr.  James  Johnson’s  books  are  always  distinguished  by  originality  and  vigour. 
His  views  are  frequently  new  and  startling — his  manner  always  sincere,  buoyant,  and 
independent.  When  there  exists  so  much  candour  and  courage  in  the  assertion  of 
practical  principles  that  are  occasionally  at  variance  with  received  theories,  we  may 
expect  to  find  a spirit  of  vigilant  enquiry,  great  facility  in  grasping  and  classifying 
facts,  and  a large  experience  of  mankind.  Dr.  Johnson  develops  these  characteristics 
throughout  all  his  writings.  His  illustrations  are  drawn  from  ordinary  and  accessi- 
ble sources.  He  draws  in  all  the  sympathies  and  remote  influences  in  his  analysis  of 
particular  states  of  the  human  mind  or  body,  and  makes  the  matter  of  enquiry  a 
medium  through  which  we  are  led  to  the  contemplation  of  nature  at  large.  Hence 
he  seems  to  digress  when  he  is  only  carrying  forward  his  researches  to  points  which 
had  not  hitherto  been  included  within  the  assigned  limits  of  the  subject.  When  the 
intimate  connexion  and  mutual  dependence  of  the  mind  and  body  are  taken  into  con- 
sideration, this  mode  of  treating  the  diseases  of  either,  by  constantly  keeping  in  view 
the  causes  that  affect  both,  must  be  admitted  to  be  as  judicious  as  it  is  philosophical. 
Indeed,  Dr.  Johnson  writes  like  an  Anthropologist,  fortified  by  the  knowledge  of  the 
physician.  The  earnest  spirit  in  which  it  is  written,  and  the  practical  knowledge 
which  is  brought  to  bear  on  its  details,  render  it  in  the  highest  degree  worthy  of 
public  attention.” — Atlas,  Nov.  5,  1836. 

“ Dr.  James  Johnson  is  a clear-headed  close-thinking  man.  He  dares  to  genera- 
lize, and  gives  utterance  to  his  opinions  with  a boldness  which  not  seldom  has  an  air 
of  rudeness.  His  profession  owes  him  a great  deal — the  public  more.  We  like  all 
Dr.  Johnson’s  works,  this  last  not  least,  its  subjects  being  of  paramount  importance 
to  us  all.  * * * * We  leave  this  book  with  regret,  it  is  full  of  information.” 
— Satirist , Oct.  30,  1836. 


( 232  ) 


“ The  Economy  of  Health  is  a very  amusing  book,  containing  a variety  of  sensible 
remarks  and  much  good  advice,  interspersed  with  many  quaint  digressions — some 
striking  facts  picked  up  in  the  course  of  a wide  acquaintance  with  mankind  in  many 
countries,  &c.” 

“His  account  of  the  character,  origin,  and  causes  of  the  Patho-Proteian  Malady, 
as  well  as  his  description  of  its  popular  pathology,  is  a piece  of  quaint  but  powerful 
eloquence,  mingled  with  touches  of  dry  humour.” 

“ After  the  quotations  given  from  the  work,  it  may  be  superfluous  to  say  that 
originality  is  its  characteristic.  Dr.  Johnson  may  have  been  occasionally  indebted 
to  others  for  his  facts  or  his  thoughts,  but  he  has  made  them  his  own  by  digesting 
them.  The  Economy  of  Health  is  a faithful  reflex  of  the  Author’s  mind,  and  not 
* a thing  of  shreds  and  patches.’  ” — Spectator,  Nov.  5,  1836. 

“ The  Author  of  this  interesting  publication  has  long  been  known  to  the  medical 
world  as  truly  learned  in  the  healing  art.  His  works  on  popular  medicine  have  long 
been  before  the  public,  and  earned  him  a justly  deserved  reputation.  The  volume 
before  us  cannot  fail  to  increase  it.” — Parthenon,  Nov.  17,  1836. 

“ Dr.  Johnson  stands  alone  in  the  ranks  of  the  faculty  for  the  extent  and  import- 
ance of  his  literary  labours.  Besides  the  deeper  and  inore  elaborate  works  strictly 
confined  to  medicine  and  surgery,  he  has  enriched  the  literature  of  the  country  by 
various  agreeable  publications,  in  which,  with  a tact  peculiarly  his  own,  he  has  con- 
trived to  blend  amusement  with  instruction,  and  delight  the  reader’s  mind  while 
teaching  him  to  preserve  the  body.  The  * Economy  of  Health’  is  one  of  the 
brightest  specimens  of  Dr.  Johnson’s  tact  and  talent  in  this  way.” — John  Bull,  Dec. 
4,  1836. 

“This  work,  it  is  true,  is  not  voluminous,  but  it  treats  of  almost  every  thing ; 
and  there  is  hardly  a page  in  it  that  does  not  call  for  attention,  either  in  the  shape 
of  praise  or  comment.  It  is  just  one  of  those  books  which,  to  do  them  justice, 
would  require  an  article  longer  than  themselves.  The  work  is  excursive,  ingenious, 
replete  with  curious  facts  and  novel  generalizations.  The  medical  observations 
contained  in  the  several  Septennaries  are  alike  striking  and  just ; yet  are  they  not 
more  valuable  and  philosophical  than  very  many  of  the  moral  and  social  reflections 
with  which  the  work  abounds. 

“ Perhaps  the  most  original  and  important  portion  of  the  present  volume  is  con- 
tained under  the  head  of  the  seventh  Septenniad,  in  which  the  reader  is  introduced  to 
the  knowledge  of  what  Dr.  Johnson  calls  the  patho-proteian  malady,  or  that  unde- 
finable,  fitful  and  ever- varying  disease,  which  simulates  almost  every  other  malady 
incidental  to  man,  but  is,  indeed,  a substantive  morbid  condition  engendered  by  the 
abnormal  and  complicated  stimulations  of  civilized  life.  The  immense  increase,  not 
only  of  the  pleasures,  but  of  the  pains  of  existence,  resulting  from  a high  state  of 
civilization,  with  its  arts,  its  conveniences,  its  dense  population,  and  consequent  in- 
creased struggle  for  subsistence,  calls  upon  the  nervous  system  for  a corresponding 
increase  of  activity.  Disproportionate  exertions  of  mental  labour  are  requisite,  to 
fit  the  individual  for  enjoying  high  station  with  dignity,  or  for  pushing  his  upward 
career  against  incessant  competition  The  result  is  a morbid  increase  of  sensibility 
in  the  nervous  system,  which  operating  by  sympathy  on  the  nerves  of  the  stomach, 
liver,  and  other  organs,  changes  their  action  and  deranges  their  functions.  The 
details  of  this  physiological  constitution  are  investigated  by  Dr.  Johnson  with  much 
acumen ; and  they  are  exposed  with  a vigour  of  style  that  is  entitled  to  rank  as 
eloquence  ” — Athenceum. 

“ This  new  work  of  Dr.  Johnson’s,  like  all  those  of  his  which  have  preceded  it, 
recommends  itself  to  public  attention  by  the  interesting  nature  of  the  subject,  as 
well  as  through  the  interesting  form  with  which  the  author  so  happily  invests  every 
subject  which  he  handles.  *******  In  taking  leave  of  this  book  we 
will  briefly  remark,  that  of  all  the  treatises  on  health  and  longevity,  from  Old 
Cornaro  downwards — commend  us  to  Dr.  Johnson’s  Economy  of  Health.” — 
Windsor  and  Eton  Express. 


PRINTED  BY  F.  HAYDEN,  LITTLE  COLLEGE  STREET,  WESTMINSTER. 


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